


Broken Things

by Pegacorn



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Physical Abuse, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 08:32:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 66,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5778862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pegacorn/pseuds/Pegacorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waylon did not want to join the yearbook, but he was not about to argue with his mother and best friend, Miles. His life revolves around studying and pleasing the two most important people in his life--that is, until a new student arrives at school. Waylon finds himself led down a dark and strange path when he decides to take a chance on the newcomer. His inexperience leaves him confused and questioning exactly what kind of relationship he actually has with this strange, manipulative boy...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pathetic

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my wonderful saint of a beta reader **stgulik**! I almost buried this story and never published but with their help I was finally more comfortable sharing.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: This is 17 and 18 year olds. I flagged Underage to be safe. This is a High School AU. I know, I'm trash. The characters are meant to be slightly OOC and growing into their known personas. Considering Eddie's backstory, there's some uncomfortable stuff discussed. The relationship depicted is not meant to be healthy. The smut is graphic. It's an angsty, self-indulgent thing I wrote for my own enjoyment. The story line and smut was inspired by Koi No Mannaka, a manga that I absolutely adore and recommend everyone check out if you like that sort of thing, but there will be some spoilers for this story obviously.

Mount Massive Catholic High School looked different. Maybe it was because Waylon was seeing it as a Senior for the first time. Or maybe it was because it was barely light outside. The aging building built in the sixties looked creepy in bright sunlight, let alone the misty glow of dawn. There was another hour before the official start of the first day of school, but Waylon was already trudging through the empty tiled halls. He made his way to the room designated for the yearbook staff and walked inside quickly.

“Hey Waylon,” came a familiar voice. Miles Upshur had been on the yearbook staff since he was a freshman, but that year he was the editor in charge. There was a sign on the door and everything. It looked very official and Waylon hoped the perceived authority did not go to Miles' head. “You're late. I've been here for almost thirty minutes.”

The two boys made an odd pair. Miles was close to six foot with shaggy brown hair and a perpetual half smile on his handsome face; Waylon was inches shorter with flaming red hair and too many freckles. “You said seven. If you want me here at six thirty, say six thirty.”

“First official yearbook assignment. Aren't you excited?” Miles asked. It was a rhetorical question. Waylon sighed and walked to the desk where Miles was sitting reviewing something on the school provided computer. MMCHS was small so the yearbook members were responsible for most publications including the quarterly school newspaper and the yearbook.

Senior year. According to every movie about high school ever created, Waylon should be excited to be the high man on the totem pole, attending crazy parties with his friends, and losing his virginity to some willing person after a dance. Waylon's life was nothing like the movies.

Miles grinned as he offered a camera to his friend. “You won't regret joining. It's actually a lot of fun. You get to attend all the best events. I really appreciate your help on this. I need people I can trust.”

“Since I'm such an 'events' kind of guy,” muttered Waylon. “I'm grateful for the position, though. Thanks Miles.”

“I know you're just doing this for the college application, but you could try to enjoy it,” said Miles, pausing to finish buttoning up his white uniform shirt and tuck it into his belted navy slacks. If you shirt was not tucked in properly, you risked a detention for uniform violation.

“I'm just nervous about...holding a camera in people's faces. People are desensitized to you hounding them with a camera. I feel out of place,” Waylon mumbled, examining the camera as though it were a living thing that could potentially jump out and bite him.

“Just relax and enjoy yourself,” Miles said, shrugging into his navy uniform blazer. “People arrive early on the first day. You better get going.”

“See you at lunch?” asked Waylon, draping the camera strap over his neck and dropping his orange school bag on the floor of the yearbook room. He had to adjust it until the strap was centered on his chest over his buttoned white shirt and navy-silver striped tie.

“Definitely,” said Miles with a wide grin, shrugging into his navy uniform blazer. Waylon thought it looked dashing on his friend, though he preferred to wear shirt, tie, and slacks without any of the optional coverings.

The lunch question was unnecessary. Miles and Waylon had sat together at lunch since sixth grade. Waylon was in desperate need of a friend, and Miles had the ability to talk Waylon into just about anything. Sometimes Waylon got the feeling Miles used him to make himself look better in social situations—and for homework help. Still, Waylon didn't mind. He would rather have Miles for a friend than spend all day alone. After so many years as friends, the two knew everything about one another—well, almost everything.

Waylon wove through familiar halls and arrived at the front of the school building. A line of cars had already formed past the gate into the high school's property. There was a circular driveway where parents could drop off the younger students that did not drive. It was late summer in Colorado, and the school's landscaping was still green and inviting but the smell of fall was already present in the breeze. Some of the younger kids were already being dropped off and the parking lot for juniors and seniors was filling up with student drivers, laughing and loitering.

Waylon took his place under the arches that led to the main doorway and focused on the figures walking into school. He took pictures of sappy parent farewells and excited friends greeting one another. Waylon was no photographer, but he hoped the shots he took were at least in focus. Miles could fix the rest.

He found his gaze wandering to the parking lot and the students milling about. His peers and classmates. Everyone was dressed the same considering they had uniforms, but some wore the optional navy blazer or vest, and many girls were wearing navy skirts rather than slacks or shorts. Such uniformity required a lot of work for students to make themselves stand out in the crowd, without earning any detentions from Father Martin and his altar boys. There was a small group near the edge of the parking lot with a steady stream of smoke rising between the huddled forms. Waylon was momentarily scandalized. Smoking on campus?!

Waylon snapped picture after picture until he heard the bell warning five minutes before the first day of classes officially began. Waylon started to walk into school until someone caught his eye. It was a boy, tall and broad, towering above two girls walking on either side of him. His hair was just a stripe of unruly black locks down the center of his otherwise shaved head. He wore the optional uniform vest over his button down white shirt, the untucked shirt tails visible beyond the vest's bottom edge. Large black combat boots peeked out from beneath the uniform navy slacks. Waylon felt sure that he'd seen the boy before, but he could not remember anyone so intimidating. Someone like that would definitely stand out at Mount Massive.

Waylon held up the camera and watched the boy through the viewfinder. He snapped a few covert pictures before he noticed the lit cigarette in the boy's hand. Waylon did not want to risk having photographic evidence of such a serious infraction of school rules. He recognized the girls as two known theater geeks. The new boy remained an enigma.

The trio talked and laughed as they walked into school. The tall boy waited until the last possible moment to flick away the still smoldering cigarette butt. His eyes shifted as he passed Waylon, taking notice of the short ginger with the camera.

“Oh God,” the long haired girl said to the group as they approached the doors. “I knew it was only a matter of time before Miles had his little lap dog on the yearbook staff.”

“What a loser. Figures he's not a member of any other clubs considering he's top of the class at school,” remarked the pink-haired girl. Waylon feigned interest with his camera strap to avoid the group knowing that he was eavesdropping. The tall boy made no remark about what either girl had said.

“I heard that after all that work, he didn't even get into that college. What was it, Harvard or Bakely or something,” the first girl said as they passed through the school's double doors.

“It was Berkeley. And that's fucking sad...” replied her pink-haired friend.

“Oh please,” came the deeper voice of the boy walking between them. “I bet neither of you get into any college. You're two of the dumbest sluts I know.”

The girls looked offended, but not upset, and neither withdrew from the boy's company.

“I don't have to be smart, I'm pretty...” said the brunette girl as they disappeared into the building.

The words hit Waylon like a knee to the gut. Of course that's what his fellow students would be saying behind his back. The honor roll student with no life that had been highlighted as already applying to college early admission. Berkeley was the only college Waylon considered. He had been sure that his near perfect SAT score along with the recommendation from his alumni mother would guarantee him a spot in the prestigious university.

“Hey, I brought your stuff,” Miles said, joining Waylon at the school entrance and holding out Waylon's bright orange backpack he had left in the yearbook room. “Did you get anything good?”

“How would I know?” asked Waylon, blushing at being caught staring in the direction the new boy and his entourage had gone.

“Can you believe it? Eddie Gluskin is back,” said Miles, taking the camera away from Waylon and putting it into a special camera case for safekeeping. “You can check out the camera anytime you know, just have to sign it out. Any damage is totally on you though, and these things are not cheap.”

“Wait, Eddie Gluskin...” that name was so familiar. Waylon worried his lip as he tried to place the name and the face. The entire group was already deep inside the school and out of sight, but Waylon stared after them anyways as though attempting to perceive some afterimage of them.

“You don't remember him? He was in our class in sixth grade. Tall scrawny guy with scary blue eyes. Long hair,” said Miles, holding open the school doors and motioning with his head for Waylon to hurry up.

The realization hit Waylon like a truck. He remembered exactly when he had last seen Eddie Gluskin. In the past, he had often found himself staring intently at the tall boy with the long black hair held back in a ponytail. Waylon had not recognized it at the time, but in hindsight, he knew that Eddie Gluskin had been his first crush. In middle school, Waylon had blamed the long hair and pretty blue eyes for making the boy so attractive. In reality, Waylon was just attracted to the handsome boy—and boys in general.

Waylon could not remember having said a single word to Eddie in middle-school, but he definitely remembered staring. He remembered the shame of being caught—almost exactly the way Waylon was staring outside the school that morning. Great. A loser and a creep. The year had started off grand.

“I remember him,” whispered Waylon. “He left school suddenly. I wonder what happened.”

“Mr. Upshur. Mr. Park,” came the quivering voice of the school's principal, Father Martin. “Best hurry along, there's so much to see and do today. You don't want to be late.” The older man wore priest's garb and his jowls shook when he talked. Miles and Waylon rushed ahead to class, mumbling their acknowledgments.

“So, Gluskin? Your guess is as good as anyone else’s,” Miles said once they were away from the principal. They walked into the main school entrance and made their way toward homeroom. “Someone said he went to juvenile hall for a couple years for killing a guy in a fist fight. Someone else said he had a nervous breakdown and had to spend a few years in a mental institution. Lisa heard he had to change schools after he was implicated in an affair with one of the guidance counselors. It makes sense maybe. He was always tall for his age, and seemed mature for a middle schooler,” Miles tended to smile obnoxiously when he was gossiping like an old lady at the beauty parlor. He aimed to become a reporter, and claimed gossiping was practice for his future profession.

“That all seems really out there,” muttered Waylon as they crested the stairs and turned into homeroom. Rows of desks faced the whiteboard and projector screen. He quickly scanned the room and saw no sign of Eddie Gluskin. That made Waylon feel comfortable enough to continue the conversation. “He seems popular for having just gotten back into school.”

“He's been around all summer. He hangs out at Pyro's,” Miles said as he sank into an empty chair. Waylon sat down at the desk next to his friend's left and frowned at the marred surface littered with engraved initials and carved skulls. Everyone at Mount Massive knew about Pyro's. It was a local joint that had live music Thursday through Saturday, and a reputation for serving alcohol to minors. Waylon had gone there once, at Miles' insistence, but the pervasive smell of smoke and loud screaming music had scared him away almost immediately.

“I hate that place,” Waylon said, making Miles laugh.

“Yeah, you asshole. That girl was so into me. Probably could have gotten to third base. But no, I had to leave early because Waylon doesn't like the way the place smells,” Miles griped, as he attempted to get comfortable in his plastic school chair.

“It's too smoky in there. And it smelled weird,” said Waylon, wrinkling up his nose at the memory.

“Yeah, it was marijuana,” grinned Miles.

Waylon spluttered for a full minute. He needed to get into a good college. He could not afford to even be in the same room as an illegal substance. Colorado may have legalized marijuana, but it was still illegal in California, where Berkeley was located. It was also illegal for anyone under twenty-one, and Waylon was not even eighteen. He glared at Miles as though his friend had betrayed him. “You knew, and you still wanted to stay there? I'm not bailing you out of jail...”

“Lighten up, Waylon,” scoffed Miles. “If this is how you're going to be all year, then senior year is going to suck. Try to enjoy yourself a little before we all leave for the high stress world of college.”

“Do you know where you're applying yet?” Waylon asked, unpacking his school planner and a pencil. The bell rang, but the teacher was still busy greeting students and had not called everyone to order.

“I'm still trying to find the college with the best journalism department,” said Miles. “Besides, there's still plenty of time to worry about this!”

“There really isn't. You realize that, right?” asked Waylon.

The teacher called the class to order, and all Miles offered was a shrug and an irritating, lopsided grin. It was the grin that always made Waylon blush. He sincerely hoped that his friend had not noticed. Waylon really was not ready to have the discussion with his friend about his growing feelings and sexual orientation.

The teacher had almost finished closing the door when Eddie Gluskin pushed his way past. He offered a polite apology before stomping in his boots to the back row and sinking into an empty seat two rows directly behind Waylon.

Waylon sat up taller, suddenly feeling strange. His first crush had been the tall, long-haired boy, but Eddie had changed in the last six years, and it was not just the trendy undercut. Eddie had been tall and scrawny, but he returned with broad shoulders and a chiseled jaw. Those blue eyes were the same. Waylon had caught a brief glimpse of them as Eddie passed.

After homeroom, Waylon found himself looking everywhere for Eddie Gluskin. All of Waylon's morning classes were advanced placement. He only knew a handful of people, and luckily Miles was in his advanced literature class. During lunch, Waylon sat by Miles and ate the healthy lunch his mother had packed that morning. Waylon constantly begged her to send more popular items, but she insisted that good nutrition was necessary for Waylon to perform his best. Waylon really wanted to keep mother happy, for his own well-being—and hers.

Waylon attempted to look nonchalant as he searched for Eddie Gluskin in the cafeteria crowd, but there was no sign of him. Someone that tall and broad would definitely stand out at Mount Massive. Only Chris Walker, the star offensive linebacker on the football team, was taller than Eddie Gluskin.

The last class of the day was Economics, and all seniors were required to take it in order to graduate. Waylon sat next to Miles and prepared for the last class of the day. Just as before, Eddie Gluskin walked in as the door was closing and took a seat in the back of the classroom. Waylon spent the next hour fighting the urge to look backwards under the guise of doing anything else. As soon as the bell rang, Gluskin was one of the first people out the door.

It was strange, searching everywhere for the tall boy. Waylon was not sure why he cared so much. Perhaps it was the unrequited crush left over from middle school. Or maybe it was how handsome Eddie had grown and the confident way he carried himself. Waylon wished he had half that charisma.

“You're going down to the field house, right? You didn't forget?” said Miles as they stood near their lockers, packing up books and papers.

“I didn't forget. I really don't want to go anywhere near those meathead football players though...” Waylon complained.

“Afraid Chris Walker will give you a wedgie again?” Miles asked, grinning.

“That was in seventh grade Miles, let it go,” snapped Waylon, but it only made Miles laugh louder. “Besides, you're the one Walker seems most interested in tormenting these days. You're sending me down there to avoid having to deal him, aren't you?”

“Please. He's probably forgotten all about that,” Miles said, though he did not look so sure. “Here, take this camera for the night. Have it back in the morning. We need pictures of the players practicing—ideally some action shots that make them look good. Get some pictures of the coach too. Something dramatic like watching out over the field...”

“If you have such specific ideas go and take the pictures yourself!” whined Waylon, shrugging into his orange backpack.

“Can't,” grinned Miles, handing the camera case over to Waylon and sliding another over his own shoulder. “I'm expected over at the girls’ volleyball practice. They went to State last year Waylon. I need to photograph their practice.”

“And the fact that their uniforms are skin tight shorts and fitted tanks is...”

“Please, Waylon. I'm a professional. I'm not doing this to ogle girls as they jump around...” Miles said, defensively.

“See you tomorrow,” grumbled Waylon, taking the camera and sliding it on his shoulder with his backpack. He stared down the hallway toward the school's back door. A pair of giggling girls talking near their lockers caught his attention.

“I don't care who he killed, he's hot,” giggled one of the girls.

“I think he's dating...” the other was saying though Waylon had trouble hearing anything further.

Were they talking about Eddie Gluskin? Waylon could not stop to find out. He rushed down to the field house and began the chore of photographing the football players on their first day of practice. It was boring work, made worse by the teasing from the jocks. The quarterback, Jeremy Blaire, was a known jackass, and his right hand man was the formidable Chris Walker. Waylon tried his best to avoid their notice.

MMCHS was in a small, private school division of football. The field was small but well-groomed and the bleachers were old and rusted. The field house and other buildings were painted with murals of navy and white Wasps, the MMCHS mascot, but were otherwise nondescript and aged.

As practice wound down, Waylon decided he had taken enough photographs for Miles. He packed up and started to walk around the back of the field house. The smell of cigarette smoke hit him first, then the sound of a girl talking. Waylon rounded the corner and found himself face to face with Eddie Gluskin and a blond haired girl he did not know, though he thought he had seen her with the theater kids. He immediately attempted to turn around, but a deep voice stopped him.

“You look familiar. I know I've seen your face before.”

Oh God. Waylon turned back around and put on a friendly face. “Oh, hello!” he said with fake cheerfulness. “We uh, I think we had some classes together in middle school. Sixth grade at Sacred Heart?”

“Ah, that's it...Park, right?” smirked Eddie Gluskin. He took a final drag before flicking the cigarette butt away and exhaling smoke through his nose like a dragon. “You haven't changed a bit.”

“Thanks,” Waylon breathed, looking up at the taller boy with something akin to reverence. Eddie gave a sharp bark of laughter and the girl next to him cackled as though Eddie had told some joke.

“Still as pathetic as ever,” grinned Eddie Gluskin as he started to walk past Waylon, the girl lacing her arm around Eddie's middle. Waylon's face turned dark red as he watched Eddie walk away. Of course it was an insult. No one wanted to be the same as they were in sixth grade.

Waylon focused on the points of contact between Eddie and the girl as they disappeared from view. An overwhelming pang of jealousy flared in his chest. Waylon wanted to be the one touching Eddie. He was still staring when Eddie turned around and caught his eye. He smirked triumphantly before turning back to the girl.

“That guy was number one in the school last year, and I hear he got a really high SAT score, but he still didn't get into Berkeley...” the girl was saying as she walked away with Eddie. They were far enough away that it was possible she thought Waylon could not overhear—but he had.

Waylon pressed his body against the field house to stay out of view as he cringed. Great. Eddie Gluskin thought he was pathetic. He probably was pathetic. He was not sure why it hurt so much that the tall, handsome boy thought poorly of him.


	2. Say It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the first chapter gave the impression that this is a wholesome high school love story I'm just warning you now, it's not

Waylon's mother was in rare form that evening, fussing over dinner and reviewing Waylon's class schedules.

“Oh, this is going to be a difficult year. It's more important than ever that you keep on top of your grades. Even making an A isn't enough, Waylon. Your grade point average must stand out against all of the other applicants, and you can't slack off on the yearbook duties. Documenting all the school events will definitely get the attention of the admissions office! When you apply again in December, I have every confidence that you will be accepted,” Mother said, ignoring the incessant beeping of timers and alarms coming from the kitchen.

“Yes, Mother,” said Waylon. He was used to the nightly lectures, and he knew better than to ever argue with his mother. Dr. Park wore her business-casual outfit under an apron in the kitchen, rather than a white doctor's coat, but she still seemed on the job. She had the same red hair as Waylon, a light spattering freckles, and green eyes framed by her small, rectangular glasses. Mother made Waylon's success and well-being her second full-time job.

After dinner and an hour spent getting ahead in his coursework, Waylon was finally able to go to his room and relax. The neighborhood was suburban and well kept; the house they shared had two stories with pink brick and five bedrooms, two baths. A doctor's salary meant enough money to keep their home well decorated and landscaped. Waylon's room was the only space Mother's influence could not be seen as he was allowed to decorate it himself. That explained the wallpaper of video game posters and Pikachu bedding. Not that it mattered. No one ever came into Waylon's room. His tiny bed, personal computer, small television, and gaming console were all that was visible at a glance. All his games, books, and clothing were put away nicely to appease Mother and assure she did not come into his space and redecorate without his consent.

Waylon had brought home the camera after photographing the football team, and it dawned on him that it was the same camera from that morning. Acting on a stroke of inspiration, he quickly hooked the camera up to his personal computer and went through the memory until he found the picture he wanted.

Waylon's mother always purchased a yearbook for him, and he quickly found his sixth grade year—the year he had known Eddie Gluskin. Despite leaving toward the end of the year, Eddie's picture was in the yearbook, and Waylon recognized his face immediately. The ponytail had been attractive to Waylon, but he liked Eddie's current style even more. It was so irreverent. Eddie was irreverent. The guy showed up at school and already had friends, walked into every class barely on time, and smoked cigarettes on school property. He was the wrong kind of person for Waylon to want to befriend.

So why did Waylon desire to know the tall handsome boy? The way Gluskin had smirked when he caught Waylon staring—as though he had expected to find Waylon watching, and was pleased to be proven correct.

Had Eddie remembered the way Waylon used to watch him from afar when they were younger? Was it Waylon's creeper tendencies of staring at the tall boy as he ate or read books at lunch that made him memorable? Eddie had a reputation in middle school for being a loner, and he missed a lot of school without explanation. Then one day, he did not return, leading to all the rumors that were circulating upon his reappearance. Waylon pondered what could have happened to young Eddie.

Waylon held up the black-and-white yearbook page next to the full color photos he had taken that morning. It was definitely the same person. He lost track of time, staring at the high definition photograph of his classmate and first crush. At first, Waylon did not even realize that he was stroking himself—or that he had grown achingly hard.

Waylon glared at his hand as though it was the cause of the problem. He had urges, the same as any other teenage boy, but he did not usually indulge them while looking at pictures of his classmates. Waylon felt guilty. Ashamed. It was one thing to have a crush on the new senior, and another thing to squeeze his erection alone in his room imagining that tall boy touching him and kissing him.

There was no helping the situation once he was rubbing in dribbles of his own fluid, massaging his swollen flesh. Waylon had never kissed, let alone do anything else sexual. Probably because he had never had any interest in girls, and there were no openly gay students at his Catholic high school. He was still staring hard at Eddie's shocking blue eyes in the photograph when he spilled out into his own cupped hand. The shame redoubled itself in the afterglow of his release.

The first weeks of school were a blur with all of the homework and dashing between school activities and taking pictures for the yearbook. Waylon made sure he steered clear of Eddie Gluskin. The shame of his own lust still too great to want to make eye-contact with the boy. Unfortunately, Eddie seemed to have somehow figured out that Waylon was avoiding him. Waylon continuously found him standing in the hallway smirking at him, or waiting outside, smoking cigarettes and watching him with an amused look on his face. Eddie was rarely alone. Waylon couldn't help but feel jealous that the new kid already had more friends than he had ever had in his entire life. Eddie seemed to have an in with the theater crowd.

Mount Massive Catholic High School was small and everyone tended to travel in their own groups. Waylon had never fit in with any of them and that had led him to Miles Upshur. Since their were young, Miles walked to the beat of his own off-tempo drummer no one else could hear. It was what drew Waylon to Miles while simultaneously frightening him. He had never put too much stock into social circles. Or socializing in general.

“Come out with me tonight,” said Miles one Thursday as they were packing up in the yearbook room.

“I can't go out on a weeknight. Mother would flip,” said Waylon, frowning down at some black-and-white photographs they had printed out to compare.

“Tell her it's a yearbook thing, or a study marathon--shit, anything she'd love for you to be doing,” Miles pressed, shutting down the yearbook room computer.

“What would I actually be doing though?” asked Waylon, trying to get comfortable under the weight of his overloaded backpack. There were no tests that week, which made it a great time to read ahead.

“Come with me to Pyro's. Lisa, from the volleyball team, she and a bunch of her friends are going there tonight to see some local band. I'm sure the band is garbage, but, ya know, cute girls. Just say yes and save me the trouble of forcing you to go out. It's for your own good.” Miles pushed Waylon out the door and locked the room behind them with his key.

Somewhere a memory rang in Waylon's head. Eddie Gluskin spent time at Pyro's.“Okay, I'll try,” offered Waylon. Miles was always dragging Waylon along or convincing him to do things he did not really want to do. Waylon found it impossible to say no. Mother had successfully instilled a deep need in Waylon to please those around him and follow orders. It had become second nature.

Convincing his mother proved to be an easy feat. She was proud that her son was working so hard on his yearbook responsibilities. Waylon wished he had brought a change of clothes to school that day. The dress code at Pyro's was punk chic. Miles had brought a red shirt and black jeans to change into and accessorized the look with a studded belt. It was obvious Waylon was wearing his school uniform, even after untucking his shirt and removing his tie. Miles dug a dirty gray t-shirt out of the back of his Jeep and forced Waylon to change into the shirt. The end result had Waylon looking, and smelling, unwashed. It was an unsettling feeling.

Miles and Waylon grabbed some fast-food before picking up Lisa and her blonde friend, Hope. Lisa had dimples that appeared when she smiled and thick brown hair pulled into a ponytail. She wore a red plaid skirt and black shirt with a band logo on the front. Hope was wearing nice jeans and a tight white tank. They drove the two miles over the tracks to Pyro's in Miles' Jeep. The show was starting at six and the bouncers did not ask for any identification.

The bar was located on the wrong side of the tracks in their small Colorado town. It was the anchor of a dilapidated shopping center, sandwiched between a liquor store with metal bars and neon signs in the windows, and an 'adult entertainment' shop with all the windows blacked-out. Waylon felt dirty just walking into the place.

The inside of the dive bar was filthy, concrete floors with a few bar tops and a large open area in front of a rickety wooden stage. The bar in the back was crowded with locals and regulars drinking cheap beer and ignoring all the kids crowding the stage area. It was not hard to determine which of the bartenders was the owner everyone called Pyro. The man had burns covering the entire right side of his face leaving his eye white and blind. The untouched portion of his face was attractive with black hair and a brown eye, but he was always frowning as though feeling some hidden pain. Waylon stood awkwardly near the back wall, scanning the crowd.

Lisa kept giving Waylon lingering stares before turning back to her friend and giggling into her hands. Miles had no trouble chatting up the group of girls and being charming. Waylon kept quiet until Lisa finally worked up the courage to talk to him, one-on-one.

“You're on yearbook with Miles, right? How come I never see you at any of the volleyball games?” she asked, sipping on a drink she had bought that resembled Sprite but was probably alcoholic.

“Oh,” Waylon said, clearing his throat. He wished he had thought to buy a drink, even just a water, to have something to do with his hands. “I, uh, Miles does the photos for the volleyball team. I mostly photograph the football players. We take turns photographing soccer as well. Those are all the sports going on right now until basketball season.”

“So you'll be at all the football games, then?” She flipped her ponytail in a flirty manner and smiled. Waylon thought she was pretty, especially when she smiled and her dimples appeared.

“Yeah, I suppose I will have to be at the games,” he replied, almost to himself. He knew he would be photographing all of the events, but it had not really dawned on him exactly what that required. Football games were large social gatherings he usually avoided, but this year he would be in attendance.

“That's so great! We'll be seeing each other again then,” smiled Lisa. The band was taking the stage and the first chords played were deafeningly loud in the small venue. “You have the prettiest red hair.”

“Come out near the stage with us,” said Miles, grabbing Waylon's hand and interrupting the private conversation before Waylon could respond to the strange compliment. Most people merely harassed him for being a ginger, as though that was an insult. Waylon's heart fluttered at Miles' touch. Lisa and her friends whispered to one another and giggled as they pushed through the crowd to get closer to the band. Waylon did not know what to make of their behavior. The music started up shortly and began rattling his teeth, chasing away any hope of a conscious thought.

“I'm alright, I'm going to sit back here for a while...” Waylon excused himself, pulling his hand away from Miles' grip.

Miles shrugged and led the two girls toward the stage where they met up with a larger group of girls. Waylon regretted coming when he smelt a thick, fragrant odor that he'd smelled there before. Miles had identified it as marijuana. Waylon began to panic internally. What if just smelling it made it show up in his system? Would the college give him a drug test before granting admittance? Waylon was pretty sure he remembered reading that secondary marijuana smoke can give someone a contact high. Shit. Was he already high?

Waylon's hands were sweaty as he made his way toward a hallway he hoped led to a bathroom. The smell only got stronger as he entered the narrow corridor.

“Park,” came a voice he would recognize anywhere. “I'm awfully sorry if this sounds rude, but what the serious fuck are _you_ doing here?”

Waylon froze and wished he could blend into the dingy, faded wallpaper in the hallway. Eddie Gluskin was standing there, lit cigarette in hand, smirking through a haze of smoke. “Oh, uh, hi Eddie.” Waylon was amazed that he could form a coherent sentence.

“Nice shirt,” said Eddie, taking a drag off his cigarette. Waylon knew he was staring, but he could not help himself. Eddie's hair was spiked up into a short but impressive black mohawk and he was wearing a vest with hand-sewn patches all over the front. His stained white t-shirt, faded jeans, and black boots completed the look. Eddie fit in; Waylon needed to leave.

“I was just uhh,” Waylon stuttered, sweating profusely, “uh, headed out actually. I need to uh...”

“You're gay, aren't you, Park?” said Eddie, dropping his cigarette onto the dirty concrete floor and extinguishing it with his boot.

Waylon's eyes snapped wide and he felt his voice catch in his throat. He had not told anyone about his sexual orientation. He was not ready to tell his mother. He did not even want Miles to know, afraid his friend might think differently of their relationship. There was no way that Eddie Gluskin knew more about him that he had told to even his closest confidant.

It was not uncommon for the jocks to taunt him and call him names or question his sexual orientation, but that was easy to ignore before they were just ignorant jerks out to get a rise. Somehow, Eddie's question seemed different, though the self assured smirk on his face was definitely mocking.

“I can tell these things,” Eddie continued after Waylon failed to make any response. He turned to face him in the hallway, still smirking. The walls were suddenly way too narrow and closing in on Waylon. His brown eyes darted about quickly, looking for an escape. “And what's more, you like me, don't you?”

Waylon's mouth fell open. Had he really been so transparent? His heart threatened to beat out of his chest.

“Come on,” Eddie said, grinning. “Say something.”

Waylon did not know what to do when Eddie took a step even closer and bent his neck down until he was a breath away. His smoky breath puffed against Waylon's mouth as he coaxed, “Say it.”

Deny. Waylon knew he should deny the accusations. He should act offended and storm out of the venue. Who cares if it was over five miles from his house? He would walk home and deny everything Eddie had said. But why was Eddie asking about this? Was it possible that maybe Eddie was asking because he was interested in Waylon? If he denied everything, would Eddie leave him alone and end any chance of Waylon getting to know the boy he had been crushing on for years? But if it was really a ploy to embarrass him...Waylon's life, as pitiful as it was, would be over.

Wide brown eyes met bright blue as he considered his options. Deny it and continue with his meager high school existence, or admit he had a crush on the boy and possibly have his feelings reciprocated?

“I...” Waylon started to speak before stopping, still fighting internally with his warring emotions. “I...like you.”

Eddie Gluskin threw his spiked head back and laughed. “Ha! I knew it. Gross.”

Waylon cringed. Definitely the wrong decision. Why would he think that Eddie Gluskin was any different than the other jocks and bullies at school? What kind of ammunition had he just handed over about himself? If the school found out he was gay and chose to torment him, Waylon would not be able to handle the fallout. Father Martin would grant him some unholy penance to take out for being some kind of godless abomination. Would he be allowed to continue high school? Maybe it was not too late to deny what he had said—it was loud in the bar, he could claim that he had been misheard.

Eddie smirked again at the devastated frown on Waylon's face.“But whatever. We should hook up.”

The words drew Waylon's eyes directly to Eddie's piercing blue stare. Waylon did not know how to answer. He was afraid he had misheard the taller boy in the noisy club, but was too afraid to ask for clarification. “Hook...wha...”

“Don't look at me like that,” Eddie backed up until he resumed his stance leaning against the hallway wall. “I just want to do it. It doesn't even matter who I do it with, I just want to put it in someone. You're a guy like me, so you know what I'm talking about. Right?”

Waylon definitely did not know what Eddie was talking about, and his face could not grow any hotter. Eddie seemed so at ease, leaning against the wall, hair spiked up and intimidating. Waylon felt tears forming at the corners of his eyes and he desperately fought to keep them from falling.

“Give me your phone,” demanded Eddie. Waylon barely paused before immediately offering his outdated cell phone to Eddie.

“Ha, what model is this?” Eddie laughed as he did something on Waylon's phone before handing it back.

“I have your number now. I'll text you tomorrow,” said Eddie as a girl with short pink hair walked up. Waylon recognized her from the photographs he had taken of Eddie on the first day of school. The photographs he had jerked off to recently. He felt a new wave of shame wash over him.

The girl began to chatter while dragging Eddie down the hallway. Eddie looked back before disappearing around the corner, an indecipherable smile on his face.

Waylon was still in shock as he pushed his way back into the main area. The band playing was awful and loud, the lyrics a mixture of screaming and mumbling. Waylon found Miles and the volleyball team near the stage. He spent the rest of the evening standing awkwardly in the middle of dancing people. Lisa attempted to dance with him on several occasions, but Waylon just brushed her off.

He could not shake the idea that Eddie was playing some kind of horrible trick on him. Maybe he had done something to Waylon's phone and was intending to play a prank? Perhaps he would tell him a wrong location, setting him up for a scare or worse. Was he serious when he had said he wanted to do it? Did that mean...sex? Even though Waylon had not been on a single date, he was fairly certain from watching Miles that that was not the way people initiated relationships.

And yet a small part of him hoped Eddie was being sincere. He actually wanted Eddie to want to do it with him—or at least just kiss him. Yeah. Waylon really wanted his first kiss to be Eddie Gluskin.

Miles did not notice anything strange about Waylon's behavior. It was not surprising considering how strange Waylon always behaved in social situations. Miles was too busy flirting with Hope who was screaming over the music in an attempt to carry on a conversation.

“Upshur,” growled a loud voice that had the entire group turning around in surprise. “I know this place is a dive, but I didn’t think they'd let filth like you in.”

Miles glanced at the newcomer, a towering boy, and snorted. “Go find someone else to annoy, Walker. You smell like a jock strap.”

A fist pulled the front of Miles' shirt until he was staring into the snarling face of Chris Walker, the largest guy at MMCHS. Walker rarely went anywhere without his usual entourage of football player goons. Waylon did not recognize all of them, but Jeremy Blaire definitely stood out, his smug expression permanently fixed on his face. “Say that again, little pig, and I will make you fucking squeal for your life...” threatened Walker.

To Miles' credit, his face remained unflappably calm. “I told you, I'm just not into you that way,” he replied. “I'm sure Jeremy would love for you to make _him_ squeal...”

Waylon barely managed to scramble out of the crowd before fists and insults went flying. A few minutes later, the entire group was escorted from the premise by large men in leather jackets.

“Bullshit,” muttered Miles, spitting out blood. He used his phone's front-facing camera to examine his face. “That dick. At least he didn’t break any teeth. What the fuck is his problem? I thought we were done with this harassment after last year.”

Miles stalked to where Chris and Jeremy were talking together in the parking lot, preparing to step into Jeremy Blaire's black BMW, which seemed far too nice for any high school student. “You have a problem with me, Walker?”

“Stay the fuck away from Hope, Upshur,” said Jeremy before sliding into the driver's side. Chris made no answer, only glared at Miles and spat noisily on the pavement before dropping into the car and closing the door. Walker was so large and the car so small that Waylon momentarily imagined him crammed in like a sardine and snorted to himself.

“Let's get home,” said Waylon, glancing around the parking lot nervously. “I don't put it past those guys to follow us. Lisa said they'd get a ride home with their friends.” It was not the best side of town, and being stalked in the dark by Chris Walker sounded like his personal nightmare.

“What's the deal with Hope?” Waylon asked once they were safe in the Jeep with the engine started.

“She's cute, right?” Miles asked, grinning over at Waylon. “Apparently she's friends with Jeremy Blaire. Jeremy thinks they're more than friends. But she was flirting with me pretty hard, so I think he might be mistaken...”

When Miles dropped Waylon off, Waylon quickly ran upstairs and showered. He did not want his mother to find any traces of smoke on his person. He dropped the smoky clothes directly into the laundry machine and started a load.

“Everything okay, Way-Way?” asked Mother as she peeked into the laundry room. She was already in her night robe and curlers.

“Yeah. Sorry, Mother. I just realized I don't have my favorite uniform cardigan clean for tomorrow. I want to look my best. It's...picture day,” lied Waylon.

“Oh! How amazing, it's so soon. Yes, you have to look your best. You never know, you may need to show that photograph to the admissions people at Berkeley,” tittered Mother.

“My thoughts exactly,” said Waylon, smiling shakily at his mother before returning to his small, upstairs bedroom. He glanced at his phone. No texts. He wondered how he would ever manage to sleep that night.


	3. Cry Harder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets dirty.

Waylon regretted the lie the next morning when Mother insisted that he wear the optional uniform vest over his button-down shirt and navy pants. He was extremely overdressed for his potential after-school activity, but he could not risk Mother discovering his lie. She trusted him, and he feared what would happen if that trust were ever broken. 

Waylon made it to school early and hid in the library, doing homework while trying not to glance at his phone every five minutes. The day continued like any other until last period, when Eddie walked into the Economics classroom. He smiled at Waylon, holding eye contact as he walked to his seat. Waylon felt his stomach squirm uncomfortably. Soon after the bell rang, the teacher began the lesson and Waylon felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Shit. He started to sweat.

Waylon couldn't concentrate as he waited for the teacher to turn away from the students. Finally, his chance presented itself as the teacher began to write out a lengthy definition on the whiteboard. Waylon quickly dug his phone out of his pocket and read the text.

Meet me at the 7-Eleven across the street after class. The Caller-ID said it was from an unknown number, but Waylon knew exactly who had sent it.

7-Eleven was the convenience store across the street from school. A public place. It would be so easy for Eddie to get a group of people to show up there and laugh at Waylon. No. Waylon forced those thoughts away and shoved his phone back in his pocket before the teacher saw him. If he arrived at the store and anything seemed odd, he could just walk home. No big deal.

The class time passed slowly. Finally, the bell rang. Waylon was surprised to see Eddie was once again one of the first people out the door without so much as a backwards glance.

Miles called to Waylon. “I need your opinion on some potential layouts for the yearbook. I've been agonizing over them and I feel like just having another opinion would help,” he said.

“I uh, can't,” stuttered Waylon. “Not today. Can I come in early tomorrow and look at them?”

“What do you have to do now?” Miles asked suspiciously. Before he could continue with his reporter routine, the pair was interrupted by the arrival of the “altar boys”. They were twins, tall, with identical unibrows and protruding jaws. One had considerably more brown hair than his brother, who seemed to have a prematurely receding hairline. They were officially dubbed hall monitors and they were always sucking up to Father Martin.

“Father Martin wants to speak with this one,” said the bushy-haired twin, staring at Miles but obviously speaking to his brother.

“Yes,” agreed the balding twin, leering down at Miles as well.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Did Jeremy go to the principal to cry about last night?” Miles asked incredulously.

“He assumes we know what the priest wants to discuss...” the first said, again to his twin.

“He assumes we care,” his brother answered.

“Walker started it,” protested Miles, but the twins were on either side giving identical dull looks as they guided Miles down the hallway toward the main offices. “You're off the hook today, Park, but I’ll see you in the morning. Oh hey,” Miles added, turning around to shout back at Waylon, “Lisa asked about you today. I think she likes you. Her friend told me she has a thing for redheads. You should ask her out,” Miles said before turning back to his escorts. “And you two, put some distance between us, you creeps.”

Waylon watched his friend go before rushing to his locker and quickly packing his belongings. He immediately set out for the 7-Eleven. He walked through the door, setting off an automatic chiming nose. He scanned the store and soon spotted Eddie. His stripe of hair was down and unruly, some black strands hanging in his blue eyes. 

Eddie’s expression was neutral as he walked next to Waylon and gave a slight jerk of his chin. Waylon obediently followed him out of the store and down the sidewalk. They walked in silence for a couple blocks before Eddie changed direction toward a dilapidated apartment complex. Eddie's boots rattled the flimsy metal staircase as they ascended to the second level. He produced a key and opened the door wide, motioning for Waylon to walk in.

As soon as Waylon crossed the threshold, he stopped and stared around the apartment. There was not much in the way of furniture, and what was present looked ready to fall apart.

Eddie only laughed at Waylon's expression. “Surprised at how the other half lives? Sorry, we can't all live in McMansions in the suburbs.” Then Eddie's hand was on Waylon's shoulder, directing him through an open doorway and into a bedroom consisting of a mattress on the ground with some dingy sheets piled on top. “Over here.”

Waylon gasped as he was pushed toward the mattress, losing his footing and falling onto the pile of sheets. His shock only seemed to amuse Eddie. “Take off your clothes,” Eddie directed. Waylon pulled his vest over his head and his fingers immediately started to undo his shirt buttons. He looked up at Eddie, but the larger boy was only staring down with a strange smirk and his arms crossed in front of his broad chest. Once Waylon's shirt had been removed, he tucked his legs beneath him and sat back on his feet, looking up nervously.

“Pants too,” Eddie said, gesturing. “Come on, hurry up. It's not a big deal. It's just sex.”

Just sex? Waylon was horrified. He had never had anything close to sex in his entire life. He had seen enough movies to know there was usually some kind of kissing or romance first. If his mother knew he was having sex instead of studying in the library after school, he would be punished severely. Yet Eddie was acting so casual and calm about the entire thing. Eddie slipped his shirt over his head, causing Waylon's mouth to water. In middle school, Eddie had been scrawny and tall. His chest that day looked defined and broad before tapering into shapely hip bones. Eddie pointed again. “Hurry up and do as I say. You're starting to annoy me.”

Waylon quickly undid his navy pants and took them off, carefully folding them and setting them aside on the floor. Strong hands grasped the elastic on his tight white briefs and jerked them down. Waylon yelped in surprise. “You're taking too long,” said Eddie. Waylon squirmed out of his underwear and sat on the bed, hands demurely covering his genitals.

It felt horribly vulnerable, being completely naked in front of someone. Waylon had always been self conscious about his body because he was smaller than most boys, blindingly pale, and covered with freckles. He knew his skin had to be hot pink at that moment because he was blushing painfully under Eddie's scrutinizing gaze.

Waylon wanted to say something or ask what Eddie had in mind, but in that moment his voice seemed to have completely abandoned him. The taller boy was not asking for his input, only barking orders, but Waylon continued to comply.

“You know how to do it with a guy, right?” Eddie asked, his tone too casual. Waylon shook his head violently. “How can you not know? You're gay!” Waylon's eyes widened further in fright. “Figures you're a virgin,” said Eddie, rolling his eyes. “You seem too serious about school to have time for anything fun. Alright well, it goes in your ass, so we'll start there. Come here.” Eddie dropped to his knees and crawled toward Waylon on the mattress. Waylon's face was aflame as Eddie touched his legs, spreading his thighs and studying his privates. Waylon was forced to lean back and spread his legs further. Eddie put his hands on Waylon's pale cheeks, pulling them apart and tilting the smaller boy's hips to get a better view. He licked a finger and placed it against Waylon's puckered hole. Waylon covered his face with his hands, blushing as red as his hair.

“What the hell? It's not going in at all,” mumbled Eddie, tracing his moistened finger around the hole and attempting to push inward with no success. “Do you want to use something? Like, lube?” Waylon nodded his head so vigorously it made Eddie laugh out loud. “Do you have anything?”

“In my backpack,” said Waylon, his voice cracking from lack of use. Eddie stood up and strode into the other room. Waylon watched his shirtless back move as he walked. Waylon heard him rifling through his backpack.

“Hand sanitizer? That would probably hurt... Oh, here, some lotion.” When Eddie came back, he was smirking and holding an open lotion tube. “Hah, It smells like a girl,” he snickered at Waylon's mortified expression. “Okay, let's try this again.”

“Wait,” said Waylon, finally finding his voice and putting his hands over his privates again. “I can do it. Just let me do this part.” Waylon was not sure he could handle having Eddie staring at his most private area and touching him. The thought was as horrifying as it was arousing.

“No way,” said Eddie, that smirk reappearing on his face. “I want to do it. It's interesting to me. Looking at you like this is...” The thought stopped there.

Waylon watched as Eddie squeezed out a large glob of lotion onto his finger and started to rub the ointment around Waylon's opening. When he pressed inwards the second time, his finger breached his entrance and the smaller boy whimpered. “You feel hot inside,” said Eddie, grinning. He watched intently as his finger slipped easily in and out of Waylon's hole. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” breathed Waylon, watching Eddie's face even as the boy stared down attentively.

“Does it feel good?” 

Waylon nodded silently, biting his lip. He knew he was blushing and breathing erratically. The smug grin never wavered from Eddie's face.

“Have you ever put anything inside before?” Eddie asked next.

“No...never,” Waylon answered, too afraid to meet Eddie's eyes.

Eddie's finger teased his insides, making his muscles seize. Eddie's blue eyes were mischievous as he glanced up briefly to study Waylon's face. The slow torment continued as Eddie slid his finger in and out, staring intently at his work. Waylon's erection was painful by the time he withdrew. He started to put more lotion on two fingers.

“N-n-no,” Waylon managed to stutter through his own panting. “Stop, it's too much...”

“Are you insane? My dick is going in there,” laughed Eddie, applying even more lotion. “It's nowhere near enough. We're going to need every last drop.”

Two fingers breached Waylon's tight ring causing him to moan softly. Eddie chuckled quietly, not taking his eyes away from his hand. “Enjoying it? Do my fingers feel good inside of you?”

The sentiment made Waylon close his eyes in shame. He could feel the heat rising to his face and tears stinging his eyes. He could not help the warring emotions of shame and desire battling inside. A single tear fell down his cheek, which he hoped Eddie would not notice.

“Are you crying?” He had noticed. “That's fucking hilarious,” snorted Eddie, his fingers not slowing as they stroked Waylon's insides. Waylon quickly wiped his face to erase the single wet trail. “No, don't do that,” Eddie said, his voice low and soft. “Cry more. I enjoy watching you break down.”

Waylon stared, eyes wide with horror. Exactly what kind of sex had he agreed to, exactly? The fear alone drew out a new set of heavy tears rolling down his cheeks. Eddie smirked and leaned in closer to Waylon. “You agreed to come here so easily. Were you excited?”

Waylon did not answer, instead just cringing as new tears followed the first. Eddie smiled at the expression. “You wanted to do this with me, right? That's why you agreed.” Waylon looked away, blushing instead of answering, gnawing on his bottom lip. “You did. That's why you're making that face,” said Eddie. He looked amused as he watched Waylon squirm from discomfort not originating from the fingers stretching against his insides. “What did you want to do? Tell me.”

Waylon's heavy breathing was the only answer. Brown eyes looked everywhere in the grimy apartment but at Eddie.

“Tell me,” Eddie repeated, his voice lower. Waylon could not say it. He simply could not. A pitiful whimper escaped his lips as he gasped for breath. Eddie frowned in irritation. “I want to know what you want to do with me, or this is stopping,” he said, fingers massaging Waylon in a way that elicited a sharp gasp.

“N-no, just this is too much, I am happy with just this,” Waylon paused, licking his lips.

Eddie interrupted the thought by thrusting his two fingers into Waylon hard enough to make him bite back a moan. “Tell me what else you want to do.”

Kiss. Waylon had only imagined kissing and heavy petting. The idea of actual sex was something that came later. But Eddie had originally said they should do it, and Waylon had not bothered to ask for any clarification. If Eddie wanted to penetrate him...well, Waylon may never get another chance to please his crush.

“You said that we should do it,” Waylon answered, closing his eyes as if the lack of sight could hide his embarrassment. “If you think you could do it with me I think I would like to try that...”

“Of course you would, you slut,” smirked Eddie. “Lean back.”

“Wait, do you have a condom?” Waylon asked, leaning back on his elbows with his thighs falling open.

“Why would we need a condom? I doubt you have anything, you're a virgin,” Eddie said, reaching down to unbuckle his own navy slacks. He dropped to his knees on the mattress and positioned himself over Waylon. His erection was in his hand and Waylon could not stop staring.

“Yeah, but what about...” Waylon was silenced by the feel of Eddie's cock. The larger boy had been right to be cautious. Waylon was afraid he would not be able to take it, or that he would be ripped apart in the process. He stared up at Eddie's determined expression and felt a flare of panic. Eddie's attention was focused between their bodies as he lined up the head of his member against Waylon's greased opening. He positioned a dirty pillow under Waylon's hips to help prop up the smaller boy.

Eddie pushed Waylon's knees up as his hips pressed forward. The pain was too great. Waylon was sure he had torn. He gripped the messy sheets and attempted to slide away on his back, but Eddie pinned him tight.

“Relax,” said Eddie, his voice barely strained though he was in the process of penetrating the other boy. He pressed forward until he finally managed to slip past the tight ring of muscles. Waylon felt a burning, stretching sensation and gasped out in pain. Tears flowed freely as he struggled to breathe over the intrusive pressure between his thighs. Waylon threw his head back, covering his face with his hands and grunting in pain at the friction of Eddie pressing deeper. Eddie gave a deep, satisfied moan. “You managed to take it all. You really need to relax, though, or I can't move properly.”

Relax. Yes. Waylon wanted to relax, but he still could not. His virginity was a thing of the past. His back arched to accommodate the fit of their hips. Eddie was watching him, his expression a mixture of curiosity and amusement. Black hair was streaks in front of blue eyes.

Eddie thrust his hips unexpectedly, and the new sensation had Waylon crying out before he could cover his mouth. He panted into his hands, new tears falling.

“You can scream as loud as you'd like. You sound like a girl anyways,” said Eddie. He moved slowly, pausing to add more lube until he could slide back and forth with relative ease. He grabbed Waylon's hips and begins a quick, punishing rhythm deep into his ass. “It's a turn-off if you're quiet. Let me hear you.”

Waylon exceeded Eddie's expectations as he began a series of high pitched moans and whimpers. Eddie moved with purpose until he found an angle that made Waylon scream. Eddie attacked that angle. “Cry harder,” ordered Eddie through clenched teeth. 

The command resounded inside of Waylon in a way he had not known possible. There was a tense feeling in his core like a spring being coiled too tightly and suddenly released. Walon did not expect the sudden spurting from his untouched cock. Eddie seemed intrigued. Eddie gave a breathy laugh as Waylon gasped as he stared down at the new mess decorating his stomach. Eddie began long, rhythmic thrusts into Waylon for what seemed an age until he suddenly buried himself to the hilt, closed his eyes, and dropped his head back as he spent silently, deep inside of Waylon. Waylon was surprised by how quiet and calm Eddie seemed, though there was sweat evident on his exposed skin and a satisfied look on his handsome face.

Eddie withdrew with a wet squelch before rocking back on his heels away from the mattress, breathing deeply. Waylon's legs shook as the soreness hit him. His heart raced at the rush of emotions towards Eddie in that moment. He never imagined how great it would feel to be wanted by someone you had wanted for so long. And despite the already aching internal soreness, Waylon had never had a more satisfying orgasm.

“Your first time,” Eddie stated, a smug grin spreading on his lips. Waylon nodded, still struggling to steady his breathing. “Well?”

Waylon did not answer. Instead he stared at Eddie while his freckled cheeks blazed pink.

“That look on your face. Were you expecting romance? You want me to call you darling and sing you songs?” Eddie was making some kind of joke, but Waylon merely frowned and blushed. It had been a mistake to expect anything like that. Still, Waylon hoped for at least a kiss. Waylon stared intently at Eddie's mocking smile.

There was an awkward pause before Waylon forced himself up and reached for his discarded briefs. He used them to wipe his stomach clean. Eddie snickered, watching him clean himself with his own underwear. Once Waylon was satisfied with the state of his body, he began to get dressed. He put on his button-down shirt first. The mattress groaned as Eddie propped himself up on one elbow to watch.

“Where are you going after this?” Eddie asked.

“My mother expects me back by six,” Waylon answered, fiddling with the shirt buttons. Why were none of them lining up? His brain was still swimming from his release and his body ached violently.

“It's already past six,” observed Eddie.

“Yeah, I know,” muttered Waylon. He pulled his dirtied underwear up his legs.

“I'm impressed you can move, considering how deep I was,” said Eddie, grinning at Waylon's blushing response. Waylon reached for his pants before he felt a strong arm around his waist. He yelped was he was pulled back onto the mattress. His underwear were roughly pulled down as Eddie positioned Waylon on his lap. “You're already late. What's another ten minutes?”

Waylon felt Eddie's cock, already hard again, rubbing against his bruised hole. He started to protest when he felt Eddie's length sliding back into his sore, stretched hole. The come and residual lotion lessened the stinging and tearing, but Waylon still cried out from the stabbing pain into his sore insides. Tears leaked freely from his eyes.

“Move,” instructed Eddie, letting go of Waylon's waist to allow him to push backwards on Eddie's shaft. Waylon stifled a sob while rocking himself backwards onto Eddie's lap. “Make me come,” said Eddie, voice dropping registers lower.

Waylon shuddered at the words. He hated that he shuddered—but it did not change the fact that Eddie's commands stroked something in his brain that made it impossible to disobey. Something inside of him, some primal urge, wanted to please Eddie. He wanted Eddie to want him. Waylon focused on dragging his ass up and down Eddie's shaft in slow, measured movements.

“Too slow,” complained Eddie, gripping Waylon's slender hips. “Move faster,” he growled next to Waylon's ear. Waylon moaned in response, quickening his motions until he was spearing himself over and over again on Eddie's full length. “You're not fast enough,” Eddie grumbled, suddenly pushing him forward onto his hands and knees. “Here, just stop.”

Waylon felt worthless for a brief moment. He had been unable to please him. Then, a single thrust had him filled to the brim once again. Waylon moaned loudly, arching his back against the new depths Eddie reached from the new position. The larger boy did not allow him any adjustment time. He drove in deep and began a brutal grind into Waylon's ass. Waylon's erection throbbed painfully as Eddie again spilled against his inner walls. The smaller boy moaned and pulled away, afraid he would fall on his face because of how worn out he felt. It was insulting when Eddie began a tired laugh.

“You really do like me, don't you? You must, to let me do this to you.” Despite having just climaxed, Eddie seemed far more composed than Waylon. “That's hilarious.”

He was pretending, Waylon thought to himself. Pretending to be unaffected. He crawled shakily on his hands and knees until he was close to Eddie's smirking face. He paused, turning his large brown eyes up to meet Eddie's. “What?” the taller boy asks with a wry grin. “Still waiting for that kiss?”

“Yes,” whispered Waylon. He licked his trembling lips as Eddie laughed at his request. “I want a kiss.”

“Don't be stupid. It's just sex between two guys. No need for flowery language, right, darling?” asked Eddie, the smug expression staying on his face.

Waylon moved slowly as he leaned forward on his hands and knees to press his lips gently against Eddie's. His nostrils filled with the acrid scent of cigarettes, but he relished the soft warmth of those lips. Then Waylon pulled away, staring down at the mattress. He was afraid to look into Eddie's blue eyes, in case the boy was angry. When he finally dared to glance up, he saw a strange expression on Eddie's face. The smirk and indifference were gone and, for a brief second, Eddie gave Waylon an intense, pained stare that pulled his heart strings.

“I should go,” said Waylon, not trusting himself to say much more. 

“I'll text you,” blurted Eddie, not turning his gaze back as Waylon dressed, gathered his things, and left.

* * *

“Way-Way!” screamed Mother when Waylon finally made it home. “You're so late. I was starting to worry. I called the school but I could not reach anyone in the office.”

“I'm sorry, Mother,” said Waylon, dropping his backpack onto the kitchen table. “Miles was not feeling well and needed someone to fill in for him at the volleyball game tonight.”

“You should have called!” Mother snapped, eyes narrowing.

“Everything happened so fast. I didn’t even think that it was past six until I started to walk home and it was completely dark,” Waylon lied, walking into the kitchen in search of something to eat. He was famished.

“What happened to your phone?” demanded mother, her voice growing cold and hard.

“The battery died,” Waylon said, reaching into the pocket of his navy slacks before holding out the dead phone. “You know it tends to drain quicker these days. Maybe I need a new one?”

“You just want a phone with more features so you can waste time playing games or looking at websites instead of studying,” Mother replied. She jerked the phone out of his hand and inspected it until she was satisfied that it was dead and Waylon was not lying. She sighed, returning the device.

“Just make sure you call. Promise me you will call next time. Promise,” said Mother, hands firmly on her hips.

“I'll call next time, Mother. I promise,” said Waylon. There was a cooling bowl of beef stew waiting on the counter, which he grabbed along with some silverware.

“I am actually very proud of you for getting so involved in these extracurricular events. As long as your grades stay flawless and you keep putting so much energy into the yearbook...” Mother clapped her hands childishly and smiled, filling Waylon with a lump of dread. “You're going to get into Berkeley, beyond a doubt!”

Waylon nodded feebly. He pocketed the dead phone, shouldered his backpack, and held the bowl of food. “Well, I worked up a sweat chasing after good photographs during the game.” Waylon had never been a good liar, but he was rather pleased with how effortlessly he had crafted that one. “And then I want to do some reading to get ahead before I doze off.”

“Great job, Way-Way. Eat all that dinner, it will keep you strong. Keep up the good work,” said Mother with a smile. Her lined eyes never left Waylon as he walked slowly up the stairs and into his own room, shutting the door behind him.

After he ate, he headed straight for the bathroom. The shower felt heavenly. Steaming hot water washed away the sweat, tears, lotions, and stains. There had been a noticeable amount of blood in his underwear, enough that they had to be concealed and trashed. Waylon leaned his head against the tiled shower wall, closing his eyes, and thinking of Eddie as water streamed down his body. What type of embarrassment would he face the next day at school? Would Eddie call him names and make fun of his eagerness? As much as Waylon wanted their coupling to mean something, Eddie had made it clear, repeatedly, that their activities were simply sex. And somehow, to Eddie, sex was no big deal.

Waylon felt differently—but he could not decide if he or Eddie had the better outlook.


	4. Dirty Soap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still reading? Ha. Then we continue...

The entire weekend was spent worrying about Monday. When the day finally arrived, Waylon's heart hammered against his chest, threatening to escape. He had no idea how to react when he saw Eddie. What would they talk about? Were they dating? Eddie had said that he would text, but Waylon had stared at his phone all weekend long without receiving any word from his crush. Boyfriend? Lover? Friend...with benefits? Waylon was confused.

After the first bell rang, Waylon spotted Eddie at the other end of the hallway, walking with his usual group of theater friends. His lungs seized in his chest. Eddie looked so handsome that morning, wearing his navy vest over his white dress shirt and his black boots under navy slacks. Eddie’s black hair had been slicked back with some kind of product. 

Blue eyes landed on Waylon for a moment, and Waylon detected the ghost of a smile on Eddie's face. Waylon opened his mouth, still unsure what to say. Hello? Hi? That was some great sex the other day? The dilemma solved itself when Eddie walked straight past, his shoulder pushing the smaller boy aside in the crowded hallway.

Waylon turned around and stared as Eddie walked away without glancing back. He had not imagined it. He had been blown off, intentionally. 

The following days were a blur. Waylon had never experienced a relationship and was unfamiliar with the best way to handle the feeling of his heart breaking. Eddie had used him. Maybe he should have felt worse about it? Half of him was relieved that Eddie had not used their union to blackmail or otherwise humiliate him at school. The other half was devastated that their coupling had truly been casual sex, as Eddie claimed. Well, he had been truthful. He just wanted to do it, and Waylon had consented.

Maybe Eddie was mad about the kiss? Or Waylon was a lousy lay? Both scenarios seemed highly likely. Waylon moped around the hallways like a zombie, just getting through the days, avoiding Miles' questions.

Before he even realized it, it was Thursday and the next day was the first home football game of the year. That meant his yearbook duties were about to kick into high gear.

“You just follow the damn script,” muttered Miles, packing up his own camera equipment as the pair prepared to lock up the yearbook room for the night. “I was excited to have someone I could trust helping me out on the yearbook this year, but sometimes you seem completely dimwitted lately. Have you been feeling alright?”

“Wha- Yeah. I feel fine,” said Waylon, glancing down at the printed sheet Miles had prepared. He knew better than to try to lie to Miles--he could always tell. Waylon could not escape the hard gray stare of his best friend.

“Did something happen at home?” Miles pressed, putting a comforting hand on Waylon’s shoulder.

“No. Nothing happened at home,” Waylon said, looking into Miles' eyes to prove his sincerity.

“Something definitely happened to you,” Miles insisted, shouldering a camera strap. “If things get bad there again, you know you can always come to my house. My parents know the situation.”

“Home is fine right now, I promise,” said Waylon, folding the page of questions and putting the paper in his pocket. “I should head down to the field house then.”

“Coach doesn't want to do the interview until after practice. So make sure you're there when they're finishing up. It's usually around five,” Miles said.

Waylon killed some time in library, doing homework. He remembered to text his mother and let her know he was doing a yearbook interview and would not be home until after six. Just before five, Waylon walked down to the football field and watched the last few drills. The field was mowed and freshly lined for the upcoming home game the next day. Waylon waited outside the field house until the players began to exit the locker room, before venturing inside.

Waylon found the coach in his tiny, cluttered office talking with Jeremy Blaire, the quarterback. Coach had a barrel-shaped body and a bald head hid by a MMCHS baseball cap. Jeremy's charcoal hair was slicked back with sweat. He wore a dirty practice uniform, but still managed to look superior to everyone else in the room. “The team isn't perfect,” the coach was telling Jeremy, “but I'm trusting you to lead them tomorrow. Make the calls. Run it when you have to. When in doubt, look for Dennis. That guy's always everywhere at once, it's like there's four of him.”

“Yes sir, coach,” Jeremy said, a smug grin on his face.

Waylon knocked politely and waited by the door.

“Okay okay,” grumbled the coach, making a shooing motion. “Get dressed, go home, eat a good breakfast tomorrow and I'll see you on the field at six. Mr. Park. We meet again.” Jeremy Blaire stood up, smirking at Waylon before sauntering out. “Well, sit down, get started. Let's get this over with...” the coach continued.

The questions Miles had prepared were all rather obvious and unexciting. The coach answered them and waited patiently for Waylon to scribble down his replies. It took longer than necessary because the coach had to stop and answer a few questions from players coming to the door. Which uniform were they wearing? Where should players sit during the pep-rally? The coach seemed impatient with the battery of mundane questions. Finally, Waylon reviewed the questions and his notes and nodded to the coach.

“Thank you so much for your time, coach,” he said, standing up. The coach followed him out of the office, turning off the light and shutting the door.

“Playing nice with you kid reporters is part of my job,” grumbled the coach. He gathered up some items and started to walk out. “See you at the game?”

“I'll be there, yeah, taking pictures,” said Waylon, motioning toward the camera around his shoulder.

“Good. Make sure you get my good side,” said Coach, turning his bulbous body and giving a large, toothy grin. Waylon chuckled politely and followed the coach out of the field house. Waylon checked his phone for any calls or texts from his mother as the coach waddled off toward the teacher's parking lot.

“Check it out. Waylon's interested in the football team now,” came the snide voice of Jeremy Blaire. 

“Maybe he's going to try out,” said Chris Walker, his voice easily discernable for how low and gravely it was for a high schooler. 

“Please. He's more likely to try out for cheerleader,” laughed Jeremy. The pair idled near the field house door. “Isn't that right, Park?” 

“I'm with the yearbook. I was just doing an interview,” muttered Waylon. He started to walk away, only to feel a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, hey, no need to run off in a hurry. You look so guilty, Park. Admit it, this little interview was a cover to get into the boy's locker room while the team was showering.” Chris laughed loudest at Jeremy's joke.

“Practice is over,” came a familiar voice from behind the field house. Eddie walked into view followed by a trail of smoke. “Don't you guys have anything better to do than hang around the locker room after hours?”

Chris growled and narrowed his eyes, but Eddie ignored the mammoth linebacker. He took one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it away with two fingers.

“Ha, ha, Gluskin, you know we're here waiting for you,” said Jeremy, shifting his glare from Waylon to Eddie. “We're still on to go pick up that keg? We'll take any green you can get your hands on, too. We're stocking up for a party after the game tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah,” said Eddie, bringing a hand up to his chin as though deep in thought. “Something came up. I can't help you guys. Sorry.” Eddie moved casually to put himself between the two jocks and Waylon.

“Oh real cute, Gluskin,” sneered Jeremy. “We had an arrangement.”

“I don't do business with people I find repulsive,” answered Eddie. He reached one hand behind him and put a protective hand on Waylon's shoulder.

“That's rich coming from a piece of human trash like you,” said Jeremy, taking an aggressive step forward. Eddie towered over Jeremy as he returned his glare, but Chris was not far behind, cracking his knuckles menacingly. “Get back to cleaning the field. I think a few of the freshmen were puking out there today. And if you refuse to sell to me again, the faculty might be receiving an anonymous tip about you, Gluskin. See how Father Martin likes that bit of news about his favorite delinquent.”

“Isn't there some cheerleader you should be date raping or something?” Eddie said, pushing Waylon roughly back toward the field house door.

“You don't want me as an enemy, Gluskin. My dad owns this school. Maybe I should do some digging, huh? Find out why you really vanished for so long? There's several interesting theories...” Jeremy might have thought he was getting to Gluskin, but Eddie merely shrugged.

“Whatever turns you on, Blaire,” replied Eddie with a grin, walking into the field house while keeping Waylon in front of him.

“I wonder if Trager is still willing to sell to students...” Jeremy said as he and Chris headed away from the field house and toward the student parking lot.

Waylon’s thoughts raced. Eddie had intentionally ignored him all week. Waylon had felt sure that meant that their encounter had been a one-time ordeal. He considered bringing up the issue, but he was afraid that Eddie might not like it and would go back to not talking to him. Instead, Waylon walked obediently into the building.

Once back inside the field house, Eddie closed the door and locked it with a key. “Wait, how did you get a...” Waylon asked, staring.

“I work here,” Eddie said, his tone matter-of-fact. “I assist the maintenance guys with the field. It's minimum wage, but they're flexible with my school schedule. Father Martin doesn't like giving handouts, so he makes sure I have to sweat for my cash. It’s not all bad. I get to ride a lawn mower.”

“Who does the lines?” asked Waylon as Eddie walked deeper into the locker room, toward the shower stalls, which were still damp and musty from the football players. Waylon followed cautiously.

“I do,” said Eddie, giving a lopsided grin. “Did you see them today? That design in the end zone took an hour.”

“It's really good, actually. I noticed the field when I walked up. Very impressive.” Waylon felt overwhelmed at having another reason to be enamored of Eddie Gluskin.

Eddie wore a white shirt soaked with sweat and covered with grass stains. He pulled it over his head and set it aside on a bench. Then he started to unbuckle his filthy work jeans.

“Uh, Eddie, what are you...” Waylon started.

“Oh stop it, you prude. I shower here. Water was shut off at my place a couple months back. Get undressed,” Eddie ordered.

Waylon checked his phone. It was almost six. He told his mother he would be late. Maybe he had time... “But we're not on the team. What if someone comes back? What if Jeremy...”

“The other janitor with the key is gone for the night. It's just me. I doubt anyone will come looking. I shower here all the time,” Eddie said casually. He seemed completely unconcerned with being naked in the field house. 

“Um, Eddie,” Waylon stammered, “...about last week…”

“What about it?”

“You ... you never texted,” Waylon said, his voice trailing off as he lost his confidence.

“I was busy. Now would you hurry up?” Eddie grumbled as he stood in front of Waylon and quickly loosened the smaller boy's tie and started to unbutton his uniform shirt. Waylon cringed and wrapped his scrawny arms around his middle. Eddie smirked and stood comfortably, as though unaware of his own nudity and his growing arousal. “Turn on the water.”

Eddie walked toward a closet and rifled around through some of the football team's supplies. Waylon almost fell while stepping out of his shoes, pants, and underwear. He quickly threw them out of the way and turned on the water in the stall furthest from the door. A high-pitched yelp escaped as ice cold water assaulted his naked body.

Eddie walked back over, holding a tub of something that looks like petroleum jelly. He chuckled darkly at Waylon's distress. Waylon momentarily worried about what his mother might think if he came home with damp hair. Oh well. It was too late. Waylon's red locks were dripping into his brown eyes. He kept his eyes glued to the dingy tile shower wall. The entire room reeked of sweat and cheap soap with undertones of bleach cleaner. 

Waylon squeezed his eyes shut when he felt a warm body press against his back and a strong arm slipped around his waist. For a brief moment, Waylon sighed and leaned back against Eddie's chest, luxuriating in the way the now warm water flowed over their bodies. But the persistent nudge of Eddie's erection brought a surge of panic.

“Eddie,” Waylon said, glad his crush could not see the blush on his face. “When you never talked to me after ... you know. I thought you did not want to talk to me again...”

“Did I say that?” Eddie asked, reaching for an old sliver of soap left in the soap holder on the tile wall. Waylon shuddered involuntarily at the thought of how many filthy jocks had probably slid that soap over their groins. He breathed a sigh of relief as the soap slipped out of Eddie's hand and circled the drain at their feet.

“Oops,” Eddie said close to Waylon's ear. “You want to get that?”

“I'd rather not. It's probably extremely unhygienic...”

Eddie's mocking laughter echoed around the tile shower, momentarily drowning out the persistent beat of the water. “Let me rephrase. Pick that up. Now.”

Waylon bent over obediently and felt a thick digit shoved between his cheeks. Eddie's finger was coated with something that allowed it to slip into Waylon's opening with minimum resistance. The smaller boy gasped—the dirty soap forgotten.

“Eddie, please, I'm still sore,” Waylon said, whimpering as he felt Eddie positioning the head of his cock against Waylon's opening.

“Really? You mean, you don't want this?” Eddie asked, his voice dipping lower before he bent over Waylon’s back, molding his chest against him as a hand slid around to his growing length. His hand squeezed firmly, eliciting a high pitched moan. Eddie chuckled as he jerked a couple of times, his fist working Waylon hard and fast. Waylon melted into a mass of indecipherable moans. When the movement stopped, Waylon gave a long whine and Eddie gave a derisive snort at his reaction.

“You're going to take it, and you're going to like it, _darling_.” Eddie pulled away for a moment and returned, aiming himself directly at Waylon's hole and wasting no time pushing forward. Vaseline was now smeared on his shaft, but the fit was still tight, and he cursed freely as he worked himself in as deep as possible. Waylon braced his hands against the wet tile wall, trying his best to relax and allow Eddie entrance.

“Slow down, please,” whimpered Waylon, trying to pull away from Eddie's hips but only causing the grip on his hips to tighten until Waylon feared finger-shaped bruises.

His head came dangerously close to the tile as Eddie began to thrust slow and deep, the speed increasing slightly on each new movement. Both of the boys grunted and gasped from the sensation. Waylon had been experiencing soreness since their previous encounter the previous Friday, but it did nothing to quell his desire. The in and out slide soon had his legs struggling to stay upright. Waylon keened loudly, bracing himself against Eddie's thrusts.

“You really do sound like a girl,” panted Eddie, readjusting his hands on Waylon's slippery hips before impaling him again. Waylon moaned loudly as though proving Eddie's point.

Eddie leaned forward, water soaked hair falling fully into his blue eyes. “Someone's going to hear you if you keep that up.” Waylon whimpered pathetically, and Eddie chuckled. “Is that what you like? Do you want someone to hear you?” Waylon groaned instead of protesting. “Darling...that's perverted,” teased Eddie.

The wet, slapping sound drowned out even the hum of the water as Eddie mercilessly drove himself into Waylon. The smaller boy was not sure he could hold out much longer. His arms shook from the effort of keeping his head away from the tile wall. His legs trembled from standing upright while enduring the enthusiastic onslaught. When a hand found it way around Waylon's waist and encircled his cock, he was ashamed at how loud he screamed and how suddenly he came undone over his fist and the shower wall.

“You are too easy,” grunted Eddie, a few uneven thrusts before he growled with satisfaction. Waylon guessed that he had finished, though there was too much distraction for him to feel. Eddie withdrew, and the water quickly washed away the traces of what had occurred. Waylon swayed on his feet as he stood up. Eddie's strong hand on his side kept him from face-planting on to the filthy tile floor.

Eddie stepped in front of the shower spray, blocking any water from hitting Waylon, and proceeded to rinse off his hair and body. Waylon watched him through lowered lashes, eyes half closed with desire. Eddie's body was toned and glistened in the shower. Black hair flattened to his head and flowed into his blue eyes. Waylon couldn't control the way he stared and licked his lips. He knew anything further would only hurt, yet some sadistic part of him wanted it. Badly.

“You look at me really strange sometimes,” said Eddie. Waylon glanced away, embarrassed, and let him finish his shower without an audience. Eddie shut off the water and walked back to the closet. He threw a thin, scratchy towel at Waylon before toweling himself off with another.

The two boys dressed in silence. Waylon's face remained a bright shade of pink, even after he was dressed and waiting awkwardly by the door. Eddie pushed the door open, holding it for Waylon, and grinning devilishly.

“What are you doing this weekend?” asked Eddie as he used his key to lock the door behind them. Waylon worried for a moment that someone would suspect what had happened when they found the dirty towels and the petroleum jelly out of place. Common sense told him those things were probably lost among the encompassing mess of the boys' locker room, but he couldn’t stop worrying.

“I'm going to the football game tomorrow night,” Waylon said, feeling his chest tighten. 

“Huh,” said Eddie. Waylon had not noticed him take out and light a cigarette. Eddie smoked casually as they walked off school property in the direction of their houses. Waylon considered finding Miles at volleyball practice and begging a ride home, but he could always walk the two miles. Any excuse to spend more time with his crush. Eddie lived considerably closer though in the other direction, across the train tracks.

“I guess I will see you there,” Eddie said before they parted ways. Waylon watched Eddie walk off in the direction of his filthy apartment, cigarette smoke trailing in his wake. Waylon could not shake the feeling that Eddie had just confirmed a date for the following day, and the feeling made him insanely happy.


	5. The After Party

Waylon stressed about the outfit he would wear to the game that evening. The school's colors were navy and white, but he could not decide what to wear. He felt corny in an actual school shirt, so he opted instead to wear a plain collared, navy shirt with nice jeans. Mother always said that navy looked good with Waylon's red hair. 

The entire day passed too slowly. Waylon was usually excited for Economics class, but that day last period was cut short for the pep rally. Waylon and Miles picked their positions in the gym and began the tedious job of photographing all of the activities: the coach’s “motivational” speech, the cheerleaders performing a routine, Father Martin leading a prayer, the football players taking the floor while everyone shouted and screamed. Waylon had not liked pep rallies before, but he absolutely hated them as a yearbook drone. Having to run around avoiding tumbling cheerleaders and hearing the snickers from other students was not enjoyable. No one seemed to give Miles a hard time. The charming boy needed only to wink at a girl and snap a quick picture to have a whole group of freshmen leaning close and giggling. Waylon tried it once and the girl in question stood up and called him a creep. Waylon just kept his lens focused on the action after that.

He spared a few moments during the down time to scan the area for Eddie, but he was nowhere to be seen. The pep rally ended with the singing of the school song and then the throngs of students exited the gym. Once school was dismissed, Miles found Waylon, and the two boys changed out of their uniforms and made their way to Miles' jeep. They drove off to get some fast food before game time.

“Okay, you are going to be on one side of the fifty yard line, and I will be on the other,” Miles said, gesturing with his half-eaten hamburger in his fist. “Take pictures of the cheerleaders, but not too many. Every year we get criticized for taking too many up-skirt shots. So try to make the up-skirt shots count. Look for someone with their modesty bloomers pulled to the side, or possibly missing altogether,” said Miles, his face deathly serious.

“Wow Miles, you really are a super creep,” said Waylon, shoving a handful of fries into his maw. “Do we get halftime off?” 

“Nah, have to document the halftime show. We can chill during third quarter. It's too tiring to chase around on the field the entire game. But we have to be back on the field for the final quarter, even if our team is embarrassingly behind,” said Miles, crumpling up his trash. “Alright, let's get there. We're early, but we could socialize a little. It's not all work you know? I do this because it's fun.” Miles grinned suddenly.“Aren't you a little overdressed for a football game?”

Waylon paled, pulling absentmindedly at his collar. “Do I look bad?”

“Heeeey,” grinned Miles, “I know that look. Who are you trying to impress tonight? Is it Lisa? She asks about you every time I see her at practice. You should totally ask her out.”

“What? No. It's uh, no. No one in particular,” mumbled Waylon, feeling as though he were betraying Eddie. What if Eddie considered them dating and Waylon was denying it to his friend? That was not a good way to begin a serious relationship. Then again, neither was anything else they had done.

“Well, whoever it is, it better not be Hope. I am saving up all my up-skirt shots for her tonight. After the pep rally, I asked what she was doing after the game, and she said she'd find me once the game's over. Does this chick want it or what?”

“Uh, yeah, that sounds like a love confession if I have ever heard one ...” Waylon deadpanned.

“But you _haven't_ heard one before, so you actually don't know,” said Miles. Waylon just shrugged. He was not wrong.

People began to climb into the bleachers as Miles and Waylon set up their equipment near the field. Waylon tried to appear indifferent as he scanned the bleachers, looking for his crush. Eddie had said he would see Waylon there. The players took the field for the coin toss before he could even find Eddie. The teams were equally matched and the first two quarters flew by as Waylon jogged up and down the field snapping pictures. Miles had been right. Waylon was way overdressed. He sweated in his nice shirt and jeans, wishing he'd worn a light t-shirt like Miles.

After halftime, Miles walked up looking sweaty, but far less so than Waylon. “Oh, and the other perk? Free sodas, all you can drink, for the yearbook staff. Let's go!” said Miles, walking toward the concessions stand near the front gates.

Waylon was dying for a drink of water. He gulped it down, cursing his clumsiness as he splashed his shirt. He groaned to himself and stalked toward the bathrooms located a short distance away in search of some paper towels. Before he walked into the small facility, Waylon heard talking and laughing coming from behind the building. There was also the smell of cigarette smoke.

Curious, Waylon peeked around the old, cinder block building to stare into the shadows. There was a bunch of kids Waylon did not recognize, some he did, and then there was Eddie. His crush was leaning against the wall. There was a girl leaning against Eddie's chest. She was wearing a short, pleated, navy skirt and a white tank. She was easily recognizable because her short hair was dyed shocking pink. Eddie was not engaging her in conversation, but he was not pushing her away, either. The girl leaned her back against his broad chest, staring down at her phone with a bored expression.

Waylon stopped breathing and his heart ached in his chest. Maybe she was a friend? Some kind of relative? The girl suddenly laughed and held up her phone. Eddie glanced at the screen and snorted at whatever he had seen. The girl then spun around and wrapped her arms around his waist, pushing her chest against his.

“The players are on the field. What the hell, Waylon? Let's go,” said Miles, causing Waylon to jump out of his skin. The noise was enough to draw the attention of the crowd behind the bathrooms. Most gave a casual glance and returned to their business, but Eddie smirked and held his eye. The pink-haired girl had not noticed the intrusion, and was still pressed close. She lifted up on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on the edge of Eddie's jaw...

Waylon grabbed Miles' hand and quickly walked away from the scene. “Sorry, let's hurry,” he mumbled, feeling sick to his stomach. The football game was no place to break down and embarrass himself.

“Okay, but do we have to hold hands? I don't want people thinking we're dating,” said Miles.\The Mount Massive Wasps managed to pull out a win in the fourth quarter. Miles was ecstatic when he walked back to Waylon. “Our first game, and it's a win! I was just talking to Hope, and I guess there's a huge party over at Jeremy Blaire's house tonight. His parents are leaving and everything. They have a keg. It's going to be intense. We are going,” he said, not leaving the subject open for discussion.

“I have to get home. Can you drop me at home?” Waylon asked. He could not stop the hurt he felt from seeing Eddie with the pink-haired girl.

“No, I can't. You need to have a little fun. Come on,” Miles said, pulling Waylon toward his Jeep in the parking lot.

“I don't want to go to any parties,” complained Waylon, dragging his feet like a petulant child.

“We won't stay long. Come on, don't be lame,” said Miles, chucking his equipment into the back of his Jeep and climbing into the driver's seat.

“But we _hate_ Jeremy Blaire!” Waylon insisted, begrudgingly opening the passenger door and climbing in.

“Yeah, so? I don't hate him enough to not drink his beer and feel up girls on his couch. Now let's go.” Waylon never could say no to Miles. He was beginning to notice a pattern in his personal relationships.

The Blaire mansion was impressive. Waylon had seen it from the road, and it was a sprawling complex behind a wrought iron gate with red brick and ivy growing all the way to the roof of the three story manor. Waylon and Miles were speechless as they walked up to the house and through the glass double doors. 

Waylon wandered the party, trying not to look out of place, until he was caught by a familiar face. “Waylon,” Lisa said, fluttering her thick lashes and gripping a plastic red cup with both hands. She was still dressed up from the football game, wearing a volleyball t-shirt with the school logo and blue jeans cuffed around her ankles, revealing red Converse sneakers. “I'm so glad you came! I was afraid there wouldn't be any hot guys here ...”

“Oh,” Waylon was not sure what to say, and he made an awkward show of trying to find the words.

“Do you want a beer?” Lisa grinned, gesturing with her cup. “I've already had a couple. I'm feeling _a little_ tipsy.” She held up her fingers pinched close together.

“That's okay. I don't really drink,” said Waylon, shrugging. 

Lisa gave a frown that was more of a pout. “Not even one sip? Well, that's alright. You want to walk outside with me? It's a beautiful night...” 

Waylon would have done anything to escape the crowded downstairs of the mansion. He nodded to Lisa, who smiled brightly and practically dragged him out the front doors. There were a few couples milling about on the lawn, taking advantage of the shadowy areas. Lisa pulled Waylon into a corner created by the architecture of the mansion and giggled mischievously.

Shit. Waylon had been so desperate to escape he had not realized that he was only putting himself into a more desperate situation. Lisa gave a crooked grin, her cheeks flush from drinking. She leaned her back against the red brick wall and stared at Waylon from under a veil of thick lashes. “So, Waylon. How come you wouldn't dance with me at Pyro's the other night?”

“What?” Oh. That was right. Lisa had been at Pyro's. Waylon had been so occupied with Eddie he had almost forgotten that detail. “I mean, I'm not much of a dancer.”

“Well, that's alright. I'm a good enough dancer for both of us,” said Lisa. She leaned forward and almost tripped on her own feet, causing her to giggle. “Sorry. I maybe underestimated how many times Jeremy filled up my cup.”

Waylon frowned and rolled his eyes. It definitely sounded like Jeremy to keep girls drinking without alerting them to how much they were having. “You probably should get home, Lisa. I would hate for someone to take advantage of you in this situation.”

“I would like if you took advantage of me in this situation,” purred Lisa. She put a small hand on Waylon's chest to steady herself and looked straight into his eyes. Her eyes were blue, he realized. Not the electric blue like Eddie's but the dark blue of the sky at twilight. 

“I could never do that, Lisa. Not the kind of move I would want to make,” mumbled Waylon. He did not need to explain that he was not attracted to her in that way. He only needed to convince her to get away from the party before something bad happened. “Help me find Miles? We can all ride home together. Do you live far?”

“Nah, I am right next to the school,” slurred Lisa, giving a drunken hiccup. Waylon did not let Lisa out of his sight as they patrolled the Blaire mansion. Miles was out back, pool side, flirting with Hope Williams.

“We need to leave,” Waylon said into Miles' ear. “Lisa's had too much to drink. I’m worried about her. We need to get her home.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” whined Miles. “This girl is totally good to go...”

“Has _she_ been drinking?” asked Waylon. Miles rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Let's go. The music sucks anyways,” grumbled Miles as he turned to apologize to Hope. He offered to give her a ride, but she was there with friends and not ready to leave. Miles' expression was dark as he led Waylon and a stumbling Lisa to his jeep. “You're really not helping my game here, Waylon, you cockblock.”

On the way to the jeep, Waylon walked through a cloud of cigarette smoke and quickly sniffed the air. For the second time that evening, Waylon saw Eddie. He was leaning against an old tree, puffing away on a cigarette. Waylon almost tripped on his feet as he slowed down to watch. The pink-haired girl from earlier was still clinging to Eddie. He seemed oblivious to the girl pawing at his chest. Waylon watched her kiss him, and touch him, and whisper close to his ear. All the things Waylon wanted to do but was constantly denied. 

Eddie never acted like he wanted to date Waylon. And now Waylon understood that they really were not dating. Like Eddie said, it had just been sex.

Waylon helped Lisa into the jeep before daring another backwards glance. He met Eddie's sharp blue eyes even at a distance. Eddie had a girl all over him, and Waylon had his hands on Lisa. The two shared a long moment of eye contact before Eddie’s gaze was pulled away to acknowledge something Pink Hair was saying.

“Who are you looking at with that face,” Miles said, starting up the engine. He glanced in the direction of Eddie and the theater kids, trying to determine Waylon's line of sight. “Please tell me you aren't ogling Claire. Trying to throw your v-card away on a sure thing?” Miles laughed at his own joke. “That chick is a slut. There's a rumor going around that she's pregnant.”

“Claire is the girl with the pink hair?” Waylon asked, fear creeping into his tone.

“Yeah,” the simple confirmation from Miles knocked the wind out of Waylon. Everything that followed sounded as though he was hearing it from underwater. “I heard from some volleyball girls that she got the lead in the theater's winter show, but then it was revoked. And the word was that she had to come clean that she could be showing by then. Father Martin will probably make her withdraw from the school. No, I say set your sights on someone nicer. Someone ... closer. Perhaps someone that's drooling on your shoulder right now.”

Waylon jumped and looked down to see that Miles was right. Lisa had passed out, leaning against Waylon, and a thin line of drool left her open mouth. It was a little bit cute. Miles laughed as he started to drive down the Blaire'’s long driveway. 

“I don't think I am ready to date anyone ...” Waylon said, before sighing and reaching into the front seat to turn up the radio. He had no desire to talk at that moment.

Waylon and Eddie were not dating. Waylon realized that fact and spent the rest of the ride home feeling depressed about losing the only person who had ever made him feel good. Oh well. What was that trite old saying? It was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? 

Miles dropped Lisa off first, then Waylon. “You owe me,” Miles said, glaring at his friend. “I mean it. I am going to call in this favor and you are going to owe me. See you on Monday.” Miles was already shifting into reverse and backing out of the driveway. 

Waylon walked into his house and the lights flicked on immediately. “Way-Way?” asked Mother from the hallway. “I was so worried. I knew you were photographing the game, but it's been over for hours.”

“I know Mother, I am sorry. Miles needed my help. I didn't realize it, but on game nights I will need a later curfew. I don't even know what it will be like the weekends I have to go away for games.” Waylon allowed himself to look as tired and sad as he felt, and his mother relented.

“Oh Way-Way! I'm just so glad you're home. You look exhausted. Do you have much homework this weekend?” Mother asked. 

“Tons,” Waylon lied, knowing it would please his mother. It did not matter that Waylon knew his essay on _Heart of Darkness_ was not due for three weeks. He would read the book over the weekend and write the paper. It was better than spending a weekend obsessing over Eddie Gluskin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not diverging from the manga so much as adding onto it, I promise. Trust me--I write fanfiction.


	6. No One

It caught Waylon off-guard when his phone vibrated on Sunday morning. A text.

_Come over. Bring food._

It was from Eddie Gluskin--the last person Waylon wanted to see. He had spent the entire weekend locked in his room doing homework, overcome with depression about his failed date. The last thing Waylon should be doing was going anywhere near his crush. He was too afraid that Eddie would touch him, or talk him into sex again. He was afraid that Eddie would continue to use him. Then again he was equally nervous that ignoring the text meant never speaking to Eddie again. 

Waylon was owed an explanation. It was the least Eddie could do considering all that had happened between them. If Eddie did not care about him, he should at least have the decency to tell him to his face.

Waylon felt compelled to follow Eddie’s instructions, leading to him picking up some food before walking to Eddie's apartment. Even though he was upset at Eddie, he still took time to fix his hair and wore a nice t-shirt and jeans. He stopped at the bottom of the steps when he heard an argument in progress directly above his head.

“Do you know when your father will be back?” asked a gravely female voice.

“No,” responded a voice that could only belong to Eddie.

“Well, you know that the rent has been due for over a month, and with the new month coming up...” the woman continued.

“I don’t know when my father is coming back. I’m just a kid, what do you expect me to do about it?” asked Eddie, his tone thick with defiance.

“If you, or your father, can’t pay for the previous month—and this one—I'll have no choice but to evict you,” said the woman.

“Well, I don't know when he's coming back. And quite honestly, you _reek_. When he’s back I’ll tell him you’re looking for him. But in the meantime, stop stinking up my doorstep,” Eddie scoffed.

Waylon heard a huff and then heavy footsteps descended the metal stairs. Waylon had to move out of the way as a round lady passed, muttering something about a “filthy delinquent” under her breath. He quietly ascended the steps and was greeted by Eddie, his usual smirk in place.

“Hey Park,” said Eddie, grinning as he pushing backwards on his door, holding it open for Waylon. Eddie's hair looked greasy and unwashed and he was wearing a faded black shirt and a pair of ripped jeans.

Waylon noticed that some of the clutter from the first visit had been removed. Eddie led him into the bedroom which was also cleaner. The mattress on the ground had even been made with possibly clean linens. Eddie walked to the window and opened it, letting in a cool breeze.

“It's way too hot in here,” complained Eddie, flopping down on the mattress. A long moment of silence followed. Waylon frowned, his eyes concerned as he stared down at Eddie. Is that why the apartment was in disrepair? Where were Eddie's parents, anyways? Waylon had never gotten a chance to ask since they were rarely talking—only having sex.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” snapped Eddie, causing Waylon's eyes to go wide. Waylon's teeth dug into his lip as he wondered how to answer that. “Did you see how gross my landlady is?” Eddie chuckled to himself. “She lives with about two hundred cats. It's filthy down there. She always smells like cat piss.” Eddie laughed at his own joke, and Waylon felt pressured to laugh along with him. Then again, Eddie’s smile and laugh were contagious. 

After the laughter faded away, Waylon walked further into the bedroom and took a deep breath to steel his nerves. “I saw you on Friday,” Waylon said.

“I saw you too,” said Eddie, shrugging. “Did you bring food?”

“Oh,” said Waylon, unpacking the greasy burgers and fries he had picked up on the walk over. He started to walk back into the main area’s kitchen, where the table was located, but Eddie stood up and grabbed a wrapped burger from his hand. He quickly tore into it. Eddie ate like he was starving, and Waylon considered that maybe he was starving. The apartment looked bleak, but Eddie had a job and Waylon more than suspected that Eddie supplied alcohol and drugs to minors for supplemental income. Surely he could afford food?

“I'm, uh, not really hungry,” Waylon said, keeping his voice casual. It was the truth--his mother always made exceptionally large breakfasts when she was off on the weekends, but he also wanted to help Eddie. The poor guy seemed so hungry. Eddie did not question the offer or even seem to care. He unwrapped and inhaled the second burger just as fast and finished off the fries.

“Did you get anything to drink?” Eddie asked, chewing the last of the food.

“I brought a bottle of water?” Waylon said, making a note to bring drinks the next time Eddie asked for food, as well as some extra food. Already thinking about another time. What was wrong with him? Waylon found the bottle of water in his backpack and held it out. Eddie grabbed it, downing it in almost one gulp.

Once the food was gone, Eddie sat back down on the mattress and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. The heat in the apartment was distracting. The chilly nights required heat, but on days when it got warm in the afternoon, the heat could become stifling indoors. Waylon was already feeling the first trickles of sweat and Eddie shone with it. He slowly lowered himself down onto the mattress, perching on the edge with his back stiff from nerves.

“So about Friday,” Waylon said, his voice low; a mask of indifference on his face. He avoided meeting Eddie's eyes as the question hung between them. 

“What about it?” asked Eddie, putting his hands behind his head as he reclined. Waylon searched for the right words, but none came to mind. 

“You were...you were with a girl,” said Waylon, unable to meet Eddie’s eyes. 

“So were you,” said Eddie. Waylon worried his lip, unsure what else to say. They had both been there with girls, but his situation was different than Eddie’s. Was he dating that girl? A pregnant silence stretched on before Waylon could put his thoughts into words. 

“You're boring,” said Eddie, still staring at the ceiling with an annoyed look on his face. 

“Wha...what,” said Waylon, unable to keep the hurt from his tone. “I'm sorry...”

“Eh, it's not a big deal. I mean, we’re not together, we're just fucking. Not like we’re hanging out to talk.”

Waylon could not stop the surprised look on his face as he turned to look at Eddie and found the boy smirking at him from his spot on the mattress. He sat up and leaned closer to where Waylon sat, moving a hand to thumb at Waylon's lips as he stared hard at his lips.

“Open your mouth,” Eddie instructed. Waylon obeyed without hesitation, lips parting just slightly as he tilted his head as though expecting a kiss. Eddie pushed a finger into the other boy's mouth, pressing down on Waylon's tongue. “Suck.” Waylon closed his lips around the invading finger and sucked gently at Eddie's digit, tasting the grease from the fast food. “Good. Now come here.”

Eddie withdrew his hand and quickly unbuttoned his jeans. He stripped his shirt off as an afterthought, the invasive heat in the room making it preferable to have on less clothing. Eddie pulled out his cock, already growing hard, and held it in one hand. He used the other hand to put pressure behind Waylon's head and urge the boy's face closer to his crotch.

Waylon allowed his head to be pushed forward and opened his lips to take Eddie into his mouth. Eddie gave a long sigh as his member sunk deeper into the hot, wet cave of Waylon's mouth. He tasted like salt and sweat. 

“Use your tongue,” Eddie said. Waylon was quick to begin stroking the velvety shaft as it pushed deeper into his throat. When the head of Eddie's erection nudged the back of his throat, Waylon gagged automatically and tried to pull away, though he was held in place by an insistent hand. Eddie gave a dark laugh. “You have to take it better than that, _darling_.”

Waylon focused on his actions, making sure to use his tongue while Eddie pushed in and out of his mouth. “Look up,” Eddie said, and Waylon canted his eyes up while keeping his lips closed around the throbbing member. Eddie's face was shiny with sweat and his blue eyes dilated with lust. “You look just like a porn-star. Get it wet--it’s going in your ass next.”

Waylon's eyes widen in fear. He made sure not to swallow back any of the saliva pooling in his mouth. Instead he used his tongue and lips to spread it over Eddie's length until the excess was dripping out of the sides of his mouth. “That's nice, Park. I know you like it hard and fast, so make sure it's soaked.” Obscene, wet noises filled the room as Waylon continued to move. An unbridled moan from Eddie made Waylon's cock twitch in his jeans, despite having no other stimulation.

“Turn around,” grunted Eddie. Waylon sat back on his knees, wiping away dual streams of drool with the back of his hand. Waylon was still fully dressed, but Eddie wasted no time undressing him, pulling his pants down to his knees while forcing the smaller boy onto all fours. Waylon whimpered as he felt the wet tip press against his opening. The initial push forward was painful without any preparations for Waylon, but because of the saliva Eddie was able to force his way inside. He withdrew and spat loudly. Waylon gasped when he felt a puff of air and sensation of wetness dripping across his hole. Eddie chuckled to himself before pressing back into Waylon with another persistent thrust.

The feeling of being full and having Eddie's hands on his hips was quickly becoming an addiction for Waylon. Somehow even the stretching and pain did not bother him as much, though it was still uncomfortable. He was immediately moaning and arching into Eddie's thrusts. The overwhelming heat in the apartment did nothing to cool his desire. What he saw out the window was another story...

“Eddie,” gasped Waylon, trying to dive away from the other boy and finding himself held firmly in place.

“What are you doing? Darling. You have to behave...” chided Eddie.

“The window! Your neighbor...” Waylon said.

Eddie's head snapped up and he laughed when he saw the shirtless form of his hairy, overweight neighbor standing near his apartment door, scratching his ass. “What about him?” Eddie asked, punctuating his question with a hard thrust of his hips that made Waylon groan.

“The window is open. He can see! He can hear!” Waylon hissed, panic creeping into his voice. If Eddie's actions at school were any indication, he did not want anyone to know he was fucking Waylon. Waylon did not feel the same way, but he definitely did not want anyone seeing him naked and watching him meekly accept Eddie's commands.

“You would like that, wouldn't you?” Eddie growled, resuming his movements in and out of Waylon. His head and chest hit the mattress as he brought his hands up to his mouth in an attempt to stifle his moans. “You don't have to do that. You probably want him to see you taking it, don't you?” Waylon's answering moan had Eddie barking out a mixture of a laugh and a moan. “You're such a pervert, darling.”

Waylon felt like a pervert. He tried to hold his breath, hide his face, or muffle any noises. He failed. Eddie reached around to grip Waylon's red hair and pulled his head back. “Stop hiding your voice like that. It's a turn off. I want to hear you.”

Eddie pulled out and Waylon whined bitterly at the loss. Eddie quickly removed Waylon's pants entirely. “Here, turn around,” Eddie said, leaning back on the mattress and pulling Waylon onto his lap. Waylon assisted by raising his hips and holding himself in place despite the obvious soreness already developing in his backside. Soon, his hips lowered and Eddie's erection sank deeper into his body. Waylon cried out at the sharp pain and sudden fullness. “You're heavier than you look,” grunted Eddie.

When Waylon cracked his eye open, he saw Eddie's sweaty face smirking up at him. Waylon felt ashamed and quickly moved his hands to cover his exposed genitals resting above Eddie's lower stomach. He was ashamed at how desperately hard he was.

“Stop it,” ordered Eddie. “Don't cover up. I want to see you. I like your fire crotch.” Eddie reached a hand to ruffle the red pubic hair framing Waylon’s sex as he gave a dark grin. 

Waylon hated the tears that sprung to his eyes. He paused for a moment, wiping his eyes and cursing himself internally. He was not sure if he was more upset that he was allowing himself to be used after everything that he’d gone through that weekend--or upset that he was enjoying himself so much. 

“Move,” grumbled Eddie, pushing his hips up off the mattress and spearing deep into Waylon's core. Waylon moved his hands and sniffled, placing a hand on Eddie's bare chest for balance and using his thighs to lift up and down on his lap. Eddie leaned back, giving a satisfied smile as he watched him attempt to hide his tears while riding him.

“You really are hilarious,” Eddie said, letting his head fall back and eyes close. The pair continued for a while, Waylon rocking up and down with strong hands clutching tight at his hips, until Eddie's breath came in ragged inhales. Waylon watched him intently through tear soaked lashes. He wanted to feel anger or disgust, but there was only an intense longing. An ache in Waylon's chest made him want to lean down and kiss those slightly parted lips--to steal his breath away.

Eddie encircled Waylon's weeping cock in his hand without warning and jerked quickly. Waylon responded as though an electric current had been sent through his veins. His body clenched down as he gasped out an unintelligible warning before showering Eddie's hand and stomach with hot seed. Eddie grunted and raised his hips from the mattress, impaling Waylon as he filled him. After a brief recovery, Eddie shoved Waylon off of him, laughing weakly as the boy fell bonelessly onto the mattress.

“Eddie,” Waylon said between deep breaths as he lay face down on the mattress, “Do you want more than this? With me, I mean. Or...that girl..are you with…”

The sound of keys rattling outside the door jolts Eddie off of the mattress. He adjusted his pants and ran to the window, fighting to open it wider. “Quick. Get out of here.”

Waylon panicked, struggling into his pants without bothering with underwear. Eddie hurried him out the window and threw his shirt, shoes, and socks after him before shutting the window most of the way. Only the smallest sliver of a crack remained as Waylon squatted below the window, catching his breath. He heard the apartment door open within.

“Hungry?” asked a deep voice Waylon did not recognize.

“I could eat…” said Eddie. 

Whoever had entered the apartment, Eddie did not seem alarmed or in any kind of danger. Waylon pulled his shirt over his head and began to pull on his socks and shoes slowly, keeping one ear toward the window. 

“Then let’s eat.” Waylon was curious about who could be within the apartment. He decided to risk a peek. He carefully lifted out of his squatting position slowly until he could see clearly through the window. The man sitting at the table looked similar to Eddie, though much wider and more muscular. They shared the same black hair though the new man’s hair was pulled back in a long, greasy ponytail. Waylon was reminded of Eddie’s hairstyle in middle school and decided this man must be Eddie’s father--the one the landlady had been seeking.

Waylon started to kneel back down and prepare his things to leave when he stopped suddenly and his heart stopped. He had left his bag, and his underwear, back in Eddie’s apartment. The bag had his homework inside. He struggled internally with whether he should go home without the bag, or wait and try to get Eddie’s attention. 

“You’ve been bringing a girl here,” stated Eddie’s father, his words muffled slightly by a mouthful of food. Waylon peeked again, noticing the two men eating at the table, and finally spotting his bag by the mattress.

“Very perceptive,” grumbled Eddie, forking another mouthful of rice into his face. 

“Dirty little playboy,” said Eddie’s father.

“Please. You were the same at my age,” said Eddie, his eyes drifting toward the window. Waylon quickly ducked back down. Shit. Had Eddie caught him?

“Well, that's true, I 'spose,” said his father’s voice, followed by the loud creak of a chair. “You seen your uncle around lately?”

“No,” said Eddie. 

“Huh. He should be around soon. Hurt his back on some haul. Said he'd be taking some time off,” said Eddie’s father.

Eddie hummed in response.

“Well. I'm not staying. Leaving again tonight and I need to get going,” said Eddie’s father. Waylon had not been hiding long, and Eddie’s father was already preparing to leave? He dared another peek and caught a vision of Eddie’s father knocking a package of cigarettes against his palm to pack them. He hit the pack, knocking two cigarettes into his hand and offering one to Eddie. He lit his own before passing the lighter. Waylon ducked down and continued to eavesdrop. The two sat smoking in silence, the acrid scent of cigarette smoke wafting out the window and reaching Waylon. 

“Well, I'm off. You got school in the morning anyways, right?” asked Eddie’s father.

“When will you be back?” asked Eddie. “The landlady has been on my case lately. She's more upset than usual about how long it's been since the rent was paid. Things must be getting tight down in cat-town.”

Eddie's father gave no answers. Waylon could not hear any reaction at all except for the sound of coins dropping on the table. The door opened and closed again. Waylon cowered away, pretending to be looking at a different apartment door, but his facade was unnecessary--Eddie’s father walked away without a backwards glance.

Waylon waited until Eddie’s father was in his truck and driving away before he dared to knock softly on Eddie’s window. He slowly lifted his head until he was staring into the apartment and met Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie bit back a laugh as he walked to the window. “Back for more? Darling, you're insatiable.”

“I forgot my bag. And my underwear,” Waylon muttered, blushing. 

Eddie laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, come get them,” he said.

“Was that your dad?” Waylon asked after several quiet moments passed.

“Yeah.”

“He isn't around much?” Waylon continued.

“He's a truck driver. He's never been around much,” said Eddie, walking over to the mattress and sinking down onto it with his knees drawn up near his chest.

“What about your mom?” Waylon asked, taking a few timid steps toward Eddie.

“Eh, she’s a stupid slut, and fuck her anyways, she left me,” Eddie shrugged.

“Who looks out for you?” Waylon asked, his voice just above a whisper.

Eddie looked up and for a moment and his blue eyes met Waylon’s. “No one,” he said, reaching out as though to touch Waylon’s face before thinking better of it and letting his hand drop. “You might be the only person left that cares about me.” Eddie sighed before changing the subject. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“School.”

“After school,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes.

“I'm not sure.”

“Come over.”

“Okay.”

“It's about to get dark. You should get home,” said Eddie.

Waylon stood up without a word, shouldering his backpack and walking toward the door. He paused and stared hard at his hand on the door. He wanted to ask about the girl, Claire. He wanted to ask about Eddie’s family. There was so much he wanted to ask, yet he felt completely helpless to put any of it into words. “See you tomorrow?” he asked before opening the door.

Eddie flopped down on his mattress and laid flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. “Whatever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More familiar scenes for the manga fans.


	7. Go Crazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This chapter starts the first with my new beta reader, moxymike!! I appreciate the help very much.

“Thanks for answering all my questions. I'm just going to check my notes before I leave in case I forgot anything,” said Waylon.

“That's absolutely fine. We are all extremely excited at this presentation of _Henry VIII_. It's been too long since we attempted anything as classic as Shakespeare,” said the drama teacher before flinging her scarf around her neck and waltzing away dramatically. Miles was right. The theater crowd was strange. That’s why he had left this interview for the yearbook up to Waylon.

Waylon scanned through his notes, making sure he had not missed any of Miles’ questions. He was surprised that he recognized most of the cast members from having seen them walking around with Eddie. The backstage area was so full of props and sets that Waylon had to keep his elbows close as he worked in the dimly lit area. A humming, rhythmic noise, originating from deeper into the murky area, drew Waylon's attention. He carefully navigated around a large fake tree and an overflowing box of plastic swords until he saw a dim lamp illuminating a strange scene.

Waylon watched Eddie as he worked, carefully passing a large piece of fabric under a sewing machine with a precise hand. The machine clicked quickly, and Eddie stitched with confidence, hardly pausing except to readjust the angle of the fabric feeding into the needle. 

“Eddie,” said Waylon, drawing Eddie's immediate attention and causing him to lift up on the foot pedal and stop mid-stitch. Eddie quickly scanned the low lit area for the source before locating Waylon. An odd smile spread across his face. 

“What are you doing here, Park?” asked Eddie, turning away from his work without standing up, leaving his project still draped over the machine and the table. 

“I was getting information and pictures for the yearbook,” said Waylon, blushing as Eddie's bright blue eyes roamed up and down his body. “What are you sewing?”

“Ah,” said Eddie, ruffling his unruly stripe of black hair with a look that was almost...embarrassed? “I, um, help with the sets and costumes and stuff.”

“You know how to sew?”

“Yeah. My mother was a seamstress. She taught me how,” shrugged Eddie, growing distant.

“Oh, you mentioned her before, but you did say much about her,” Waylon recalled quietly. He feared he may be bringing up a sensitive topic since Eddie had actually spoken quite disparagingly about his mother.

“I don't say much of anything about myself to you, Park,” said Eddie. “Not that there's much to tell. The bitch is gone.”

“Oh Eddie, I'm so sorry,” started Waylon, only drawing a bitter laugh in response.

“She's not dead. She just, ya know, met a new guy. Didn't want a grown kid around. So I had to move back with dad,” said Eddie.

Waylon frowned, considering what he knew about Eddie. “Your parents...their divorce...is that why you left in sixth grade?” asked Waylon.

Eddie laughed at the question. “Really? You don't believe the rumors that I what, killed a guy and got expelled? Or are you more able to believe the one about me knocking up a teacher?”

“No, I didn't...I mean, I just didn’t know what to think,” shrugged Waylon. “I remember you from those days.”

“Yeah, well, my parents got divorced, and I went to live with my mom. Sorry it's not something more exciting. It was better that we got as far away as possible from my dad and my...you know, it's not important,” Eddie said, slouching in his chair next to the sewing machine.

“My parents are divorced, too,” offered Waylon, knowing his words probably offered little comfort. “Well, my mother divorced twice actually. I was too young to know my dad, but I was ten when my step-father left.”

“What a truly fascinating life story you have there, Park,” deadpanned Eddie. Waylon sighed and shifted his bag in his hands. He glanced around the cluttered, empty area and decided to take a risk.

“We can be friends. You know,” said Waylon, feeling heat rise to his freckled cheeks. “You can talk to me about things. I would listen. It doesn't always have to be just...you know…”

Eddie considered for a moment before giving an indecipherable stare. “I have enough friends.” His tone was dismissive. Without another word, Eddie turned back to his job, and the hum of the sewing machine started up once again.

Despite the discouraging conversation backstage, Waylon noticed that Eddie's behavior toward him was gradually changing. When he walked in late for homeroom as usual, he met Waylon's eyes and gave a small smile. Several times in the hallway they passed, and Eddie actually acknowledged his presence, even when his theater friends were around. And then, during Economics class, Eddie changed his routine. Instead of sitting in the back, Eddie chose the empty seat directly behind Waylon.

Of course Eddie would choose to sit behind him on the day of an important test. When Waylon heard Eddie’s weight settled into the desk behind him, he immediately whipped his head around and stared at his smirking face.

“Hey Park,” said Eddie, his tone casual. Waylon was unable to form an intelligent answer. Eddie just chuckled to himself. “Did you study?”

Eddie was making small talk? Waylon thought his heart would fly out of his chest. Miles had noticed the exchange and also turned around, looking curiously back and forth between the two boys.

“Of course,” Waylon said, his voice cracking audibly.

“Hey,” said Miles, leaning closer to Eddie's desk, “if you are expecting to up your grade by cheating off of my friend, just know that I would definitely tell the teacher.”

Eddie held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, narc. Why would I bother to cheat? I'm making a C. That's passing.”

Miles rolled his eyes irritably before turning to face forward and listen to the teacher. Waylon turned around slowly, not wanting to tear his eyes away from Eddie.

The teacher passed out the papers, and the test began. Waylon had spent time every night for a week studying. Economics was one of his easiest classes, but that did not mean he slacked off. He studied for every class as though his life depended on it. Mother punished him for anything less than a perfect grade.

The teacher sat at his desk as the class became deathly quiet. A student raised her hand, and he walked to bend down over her desk, quietly discussing the issue. Waylon barely noticed; he was so engrossed in his own test. Several minutes into the test, Waylon felt a hot breeze across the shell of his ear. "What did you get for number five?"

Waylon had no idea what was asked. He did not remember anything past the goosebumps breaking out over his body like a rash. A pathetic whimpering sound escaped his lips before he could stop it, and the teacher stood back up straight and peered around the room. Waylon froze, as though the teacher had transformed into the tyrannosaurus from Jurassic Park and any movement would draw his immediate attention. Eddie must have leaned back because the teacher ducked back down and resumed his conversation.

This time a finger tucked loose strands of his unruly red hair behind his ear before he feels another puff of hot breath. “Trying to fail us both?”

“s-s-s-C. The answer is C,” Waylon hissed, his entire body tense. If he was caught cheating, his college career would be over before it began. Why was he so incapable of denying Eddie's requests?

Eddie's satisfied chuckle was distracting. Waylon needed to focus. The test was important for his quarterly grade, but now all he could think about was Eddie. Eddie licking his ear, touching his hair, kissing him, holding him down, pushing deep inside and making Waylon beg for his come. Of course his dick would get hard in the middle of a test about macroeconomics. Why was he such a mess? Waylon dropped his face into his hands and tried to clear his mind.

Don't think about Eddie. Don't think about kissing Eddie. Don't picture Eddie naked and smirking on that worn mattress. Definitely do not think about looking up at Eddie while swallowing him. Waylon was doomed.

The bell rang. Waylon's eyes flew open wide. It was only a twenty question test, but he had not made it past number seven. In a blind panic, he quickly circled an answer on every remaining question and passed it to the front with the rest of the students' tests.

"You alright, Park?" Eddie asked, grinning down at the smaller boy. "You look flushed."

"I...I..." Waylon trailed off. He did not know what to do. It was statistically improbable that he could make a perfect score or even a passing grade. Surely he randomly marked at least three correct answers for a score of fifty percent. Oh God, a fifty percent would ruin his average. And then Mother...

"Still coming over after I’m done with work?" Eddie asked, falling into step with Waylon. The two exited the classroom, and Waylon was paperwhite, unable to form a coherent sentence. "F...Failed."

"Oh, come on, I'm sure you didn't do that bad. Come over when I'm done at work," Eddie said as soon as the crowd dissipated around them. He leaned close and whispered in Waylon's ear. "I want to feel you."

Waylon flashed angry brown eyes up at the other boy. He wanted to be mad at Eddie, but a stronger part of him wanted to forget. He did not want to stress over what might happen. He would rather live in the moment—and there was no better moment to live in for Waylon than when Eddie was using him.

"Let me just tell Miles I don't need a ride. I'll meet you there,” said Waylon.

He caught up with Miles at their lockers and informed him that he had decided to walk home.

"You're acting so strange lately," Miles noted, staring down his friend critically. “I have some news that's totally going to cheer you up, though. Homecoming is happening in just a couple weeks, and I got us both dates. You're welcome.”

“Wait... dates? Who?” Waylon asked, all the blood draining from his already pale face.

“My mom. Come on moron, obviously Lisa. She still has a thing for you even though you are being way too slow man. Pounce on that. Look, I convinced Hope to go as my date but part of the deal was that she wanted a double date. I should not even have to remind you, but you totally owe me after that disaster at Blaire’s party,” Miles said, grinning smugly-- obviously proud of himself.

“I wasn't even planning on going,” whined Waylon.

“Are you kidding? All the dances and events need yearbook pictures. I can't do it alone. Since you have to go anyways, may as well bring a date and have a chance of sucking face with a hot chick. Consider it another perk of the job,” said Miles.

“But...there could be a...a complication...” Waylon stuttered.

“What? You already have a date?” laughed Miles. The thought of Waylon having any date ever seemed hilarious to him. “You owe me. I got you this position. You get me a hot date. Just say yes. Unless you were taking your new friend Eddie Gluskin,” Miles chuckled at his own joke. “What the hell is he up to anyways, talking to you during class?”

“Fine,” Waylon said, a little too quickly. “I mean, no complications. I'll go.”

Miles put a friendly hand on Waylon’s shoulder and squeezed. “Thanks man. I'll make sure you have fun. Promise.”

“Hey, you two kiss or get the fuck out of the way,” growled Chris Walker, using his shoulders to shove Waylon and Miles away from the lockers.

“Why do you want to see us kiss so bad, hmm?” Miles raised an eyebrow at the football player and earned an elbow in the ribs for his trouble. “Jackass,” hissed Miles as he walked toward the parking lot with Waylon close on his heels. “Thank God this week is a bye week. I have to read that stupid ‘Heart of Blackness’ book. Like I give a shit about some dude in a jungle. What did you write yours on? I know you already did it...”

“I didn't, actually,” lied Waylon, stopping to turn toward the stairs that led up to the library. “That's uh, why I'm staying behind today. The sooner it's done, the better.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't want to upset Mommie Dearest,” said Miles, readjusting his backpack over his shoulder. “Alright. Make sure you have something to wear to the dance that doesn't suck.”

Waylon had no idea how to answer that. He hid himself away in the library until after four thirty, when he knew that Eddie would be finished up mowing the field. He started to walk down to the field house when he smelled cigarette smoke.

Eddie was already outside wearing a stained white shirt, having shed his uniform clothes for work clothes. He was filthy from mowing the field and smelled like cut grass and sweat. Waylon was disturbed by how enticing he found that scent. The two boys walked close in silence all the way to the entrance to Eddie's apartment complex. No one was milling about that day, and they made their way up the rusted metal stairs.

As soon as they were alone inside the dirty apartment, Waylon turned to Eddie and looked up as though he were about to confess a crime.

“I'm going to the Homecoming Dance,” said Waylon. Eddie paused in dropping down his bag of clothes and books. He seemed to think for a moment before their eyes met and Waylon tried to decode the expression on Eddie's handsome face. “It's...it's Friday, two weeks from now.”

“For the yearbook,” Eddie guessed.

“Yes, but I have a...I'm going with Miles, and he needs me to go with him and two girls,” Waylon frowned. He hated the words coming out of his mouth. He despised telling the guy he wanted to date that he was going to a dance with someone else. He couldn’t decide which he feared more: Eddie becoming upset at him for going, or Eddie being indifferent.

Eddie's face was unreadable as he considered Waylon's words before nodding. “I think I will go, too. Do you think you can tell your parents it's an overnight thing somehow?”

 _Mom, I'm going to spend the night at Miles' after the dance since it will be late when we get in_. The lie formed effortlessly in his mind. Waylon nodded.

“We can spend the night together,” Eddie said, as though it was completely casual.

Waylon swallowed hard to wet his suddenly parched throat. An entire night with Eddie? A dream come true.

“We can fuck all night long,” grinned Eddie. Waylon's eyes suddenly glistened with unshed tears. Eddie's smile faltered slightly at Waylon’s expression. “Unless that’s a problem for you....”

“No,” Waylon managed to spit out finally. “It's just...I can hardly believe it's happening.” Eddie chuckled to himself, a soft smile lighting up his face. “I actually...that is to say I...well, I don’t hate it when we have sex.”

Eddie laughed, shaking his head as he closed the distance between them. “I know, Park.” Eddie leaned in close, and Waylon's chin automatically tilted up. Waylon forgot how to breathe. His lips parted just slightly, and his brown eyes fluttered closed. He waited that way for several heartbeats before finally opening his eyes only to see Eddie's smirking face inches from his own.

“That…just now,” he grinned and stood back upright. “Got your hopes up, didn't it?”

Waylon's shoulders dropped slightly as his gaze went distant, and his eyes canted to the floor. He heard Eddie's body plop down on the mattress, though he made no movement to look.

“Come sit,” Eddie said, yawning. His expression was bored when Waylon finally glanced up. He was getting impatient. Waylon felt if he refused or if he questioned him in any way, Eddie would never speak with him again. His feet shuffled as he walked to the bed and sat down, feeling as though his body suddenly weighed a thousand pounds. “Good boy.”

Waylon perched on the edge of the mattress and Eddie pressed up close behind him. He snaked his arms around Waylon's waist, and his hands began to undo the pants zipper and belt. Waylon gasped when Eddie's hand slipped down the front of his pants and cupped him, feeling his balls and growing erection. His body reacted even though his heart was still aching.

Within a minute, Waylon was hard and breathing irregularly under Eddie's ministrations. The boy still hovered behind him, his body heat adding to the intense warmth radiating out from Waylon's core. Eddie’s touch was gentle and arousing. He worked his hand up and down on Waylon's shaft, fingers playing over the skin and rubbing in the dribbling fluid.

“Eddie,” breathed Waylon, biting his lip. When the larger boy made no answer, he tried again. “Eddie?”

“Hmm?” was the hummed response next to Waylon's ear.

“I know you made it clear at the start that this was only about...about sex,” breathed Waylon finding it hard to concentrate with Eddie's persistent hand drawing out soft gasps. “I know I agreed and went along. But I don’t think I can, now.” Waylon had to pause to moan as Eddie pressed closer against his back, his body tight against Waylon’s while his hand continued its purpose. “I think I want more. As in more than just this.”

Eddie chuckled, and Waylon could feel the vibration of his chest pressed against his back. Waylon sighed and leaned into that warmth, hips subconsciously bucking up into his grip. He held his breath as the seconds ticked by—not knowing what to expect. Would Eddie pull away disgusted? Berate him verbally? There was no change in the gentle yet firm strokes bringing him quickly to the edge.

Eddie spoke low and close to his ear. The tone was almost gentle, as though speaking words of love, but the words themselves... “I don't need you. Even if you were to disappear tomorrow, I would keep on living just fine. This is all there is.”

Tears fell down Waylon's cheeks, but his body continued to writhe under the careful, calculated movement of Eddie's talented fingers. “Then stop,” whimpered Waylon, dropping his head back against Eddie's shoulder and thrusting his hips up into his touch even as he demanded that it cease. Eddie snorted in amusement. “Stop touching me,” reiterated Waylon. “If you keep touching me like this, if you keep doing things like this with me I'll just...” Waylon's voice broke as tears fell freely down his cheeks. “I'll go crazy wanting to be loved by you.”

“Good,” purred Eddie against his neck. He turned his head and slid his tongue across the flesh of Waylon's neck, drawing a pitiful moan from the smaller boy. “I want to see it. Go crazy.”

Waylon moaned even as he squeezed his eyes tight to stop the tears. He dropped his chin to his chest, but Eddie only continued to swipe his tongue across soft flesh before finally sucking a dark bruise onto Waylon's pale, freckled shoulder. His fingers continued to push and pull on Waylon's swollen flesh. Waylon could feel the coil tightening inside of him and soon he would be coming undone. He moaned wantonly and pushed his hips up.

“What should I do then,” demanded Waylon, trying to turn his head to look into Eddie's eyes. “What should I do to make you love me,” Waylon clarified before he was cut off by his own broken, gasping moans.

“Go crazy. Cry more,” growled Eddie, staring into brown eyes shimmering with tears. “That's what I want to see is you crying and moaning. So be a good boy, and do what I say.”

Waylon sobbed at the terrifying answer, feeling almost numb when Eddie nipped playfully at his ear, changing up the pace of his onslaught until Waylon was gasping and tensing in his hands. “Come,” Eddie commanded. Waylon threw his head back fast enough to cause whiplash as he keened loudly and spilled all over Eddie's fist. “Good boy, all of it,” purred Eddie, not stopping until he was milking out the last drops from the exhausted boy.

By the time Eddie withdrew his hand, Waylon was spacing out from the intense orgasm. Eddie chuckled to himself, wiping his hand on his sheets before he seemed to get a better idea and smeared his palm across Waylon's face where he sat panting and dazed. Waylon's eyes, still rimmed with tears, went wide when he realized what Eddie had done. Eddie just laughed. “That face. So cute. Why are you so fucking cute?”

And if it was possible, Waylon's eyes got even wider. Cute? Eddie thought he was cute?

“I know you have to be home by six so you should get going,” Eddie said, standing up off of the mattress and walking to Waylon's backpack. He opened the orange bag and rustled through until he found a water bottle. “Ah, I know you always have these.” Eddie then proceeded to drink the entire contents in almost one gulp before giving a satisfied 'ahh' and smacking his lips.

Waylon tucked himself back away and readjusted his belt and pants. He wiped his face, not sure what wetness was from his tears or his semen. “See you tomorrow,” muttered Waylon, retrieving his bag and shuffling toward the apartment door.

“Whatever,” said Eddie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More inspiration from the manga here, mixed around a lot for the story but, they're there. Sorry it's so smutty I just, I...well...I have no excuse really.


	8. Clumsy

The rest of the week was insufferably slow. Waylon felt like he was several different people housed in one body. Some moments he thought that he should walk away from the entire Eddie situation and try to forget about their strange relationship. Other times he wanted to cry and beg Eddie to love him again, even though he knew it was pointless. And then other moments he just wanted to shut down all of his emotions and continue being with Eddie, no matter the cost.

The football game that week was an away game, and Miles had volunteered to cover it alone. There was only one seat available in the team bus, and he was excited to spend a few hours in the bus with Hope. The next game would be Homecoming, and Waylon had to decide what to do about Eddie. Could he really spend the night being used by Eddie without completely losing his mind again? He desperately wished there was someone he could talk to about the issue. He briefly considered opening up to Miles, but shut the idea down instantly. He did not think he could even describe to his closest friend what he had done with Eddie Gluskin.

Eddie acted as though nothing had changed. He did not bring up Waylon’s pitiful confession, as though it had never happened. He did, however, continue being polite at school. The way he would stare and smile at Waylon did not go unnoticed.

“You notice that Eddie Gluskin seems to look over here a lot?” Miles asked Friday after school, as he prepared to depart with the football team—and the cheerleaders. Waylon was not paying attention. He was staring back at his economics exam that he had received. He had not failed, but a D was not going to please his mother at all. He had to hide the test. He shoved it deep into his backpack's pocket. He would have thrown it away entirely, but he would need it to study for the mid-term exam.

“Huh?” Waylon asked, glancing up at his friend. Miles looked especially handsome that day with his dark hair and gray eyes. He had obviously put thought into his appearance for Hope’s sake. Waylon lamented momentarily that it had not been Miles who took an interest in him. His friend would never treat him as callously as Eddie. Sure, Miles ordered him around a lot and tended to ignore him if he refused to do what he said, but he was different than Eddie...maybe?

“You're always moping around, so you just don't notice I guess. I notice these things. I have to be observant, ya know? Reporter in training,” Miles said, giving a self-satisfied grin. “I think I know what college I want to apply to also. Northwestern University!”

“Miles, I hope you have a backup plan, that is a really competitive school, and your grades are...”

“Grades, smades, I am going to write a killer essay. It'll be easy,” Miles said, smiling.

Waylon sighed and shook his head. Well. It wasn't his place to crush his friend's ridiculous dreams. The admissions department at the college would do that for him, the way Berkeley had for Waylon. Miles' smile vanished quickly when there was a loud slam against the lockers.

“You ladies are too slow. Again,” growled Chris Walker. He kicked Miles’ half full back-pack across the hallway sending books and papers flying.

“Hey, ya dick,” cursed Miles, rushing after his stuff.

“You too, ginger freak,” Chris said, grabbing Waylon's backpack that was still attached to his body and pushing him aside. Waylon stumbled out of the way and directly into...

“You need to watch yourself, Walker,” spat Eddie. Waylon's eyes went wide as he stared up at Eddie's dark expression leveled at Chris. Eddie's hands helped steady Waylon before he stepped between him and the hulking jock.

“You're going to regret that you piece of shit,” Chris said, taking a step toward Eddie until the two boys were face to face. Eddie was an inch shorter than Chris, but he did not shy away in the slightest.

“I already regret it, because it means having to look at you,” said Eddie. Chris growled and clenched his fists, but Eddie continued, “Working out the pre-game jitters by beating up two of the smallest guys in this grade? Pathetic.”

“Hey,” protested Miles, “I'm not small.”

Chris glared over at Miles and took a step away from Eddie, grabbing his bag, and slamming his locker shut much louder than necessary. He turned an exaggerated sneer back toward the group that had gathered to watch the ordeal. “One day you're not going to have your cheering squad, Gluskin. And I am going to make you wish you'd never come back to this school.”

“It's a date,” said Eddie, snorting to himself as Chris stalked off in a rage.

“Eddie,” breathed Waylon, but when he turned back around, Eddie was already walking down the hall with his usual group of friends.

“Oh-Em-Gee Eddie,” squealed Claire, pink hair bouncing cheerfully. “That was so freakin' hot. Walker is like, mentally slow though. You know he really might hurt you. You should watch out...”

The other kids chimed in agreements as the group disappeared. Eddie did not so much as glance back at Waylon standing in the hall, frowning. Miles finished collecting all of his scattered belongings and shouldered his backpack.

“Everyone at Mount Massive is fucking insane,” muttered Miles. “Come on. I'll drive you home.”

That evening, Waylon shut himself up in his room. He told his mother he was reading for school, but in reality he was staring at the photograph he had taken of Eddie on the first day of school. He had wanted him from that very moment. He never could have imagined that he would end up in the strange, twisted relationship they shared. Eventually, his stomach began to growl, and Waylon walked out of his room and slunk down the stairs. Mother was in the kitchen, carefully stirring a pot of pasta with a wooden spoon with her back to Waylon. She was humming softly to herself.

“Need any help, Mother?” Waylon offered as he entered the kitchen. Mother made no movement to answer him. She continued humming as though lost in thought. “I'll set the table,” he suggested instead. He went and grabbed two plates and forks and returned to the table. Laid out across his usual spot was his economics exam with the large red D across the front. The paper was wrinkled and torn in places where he had shoved it violently into the bowels of his backpack. Mother had found it. Waylon set the plates down as quietly as possible. He jumped in surprise when Mother's voice sounded directly behind him.

“Do you know how much is riding on your grades?” Mother asked calmly. Waylon turned around to face her, his entire body breaking out in a cold sweat.

“Yes. It was a very strange day. I was not feeling well. I took ill in the middle of the test. I knew I probably had done poorly because of that. My teacher already agreed to give me a re-test. I'll study all weekend. I won't get sick again...”

The rambling explanation was cut off when the wet wooden spoon connected with Waylon's cheek. His hand flew up to the stinging welt and tears sprang into his eyes. “I'm sorry Mother. I'm so sorry. I did not know until today and I did not have time to...”

“You were going to hide it from me,” Mother said, her tone sickly sweet. “That's why it was bunched up. What else are you hiding from me, Waylon?”

He quickly shook his head, sending tears tumbling down his cheeks. “Nothing. Nothing, I swear.” This time she used the back of her hand, and it cracked him across the right eye. Waylon cried out and cowered away from his mother holding his face.

“Do you think you can get into Berkeley making these kind of grade? Hmm? Do you think everything we've worked for all these years is worth giving up right now when it's just within our reach?!” Mother was practically screeching as she continued to move forward until Waylon had backed into the wall.

“I'm sorry,” sobbed Waylon. “I'll do better. It's the first poor grade I made in years, and I...” Another slap to the mouth caused him to bite his tongue, and an explosion of copper broke out in his mouth.

“It's important that you do not slack off, Way-Way,” said Mother, her voice like someone talking down to a toddler. “I do not like to do this. You know I do not like to hurt you, don't you?”

Waylon did not meet her eyes as he cried. “I know,” he managed, though it came out as a broken sob.

“You're making me do this,” Mother chided, giving an exaggerated sigh. “It's the only way to make sure you remember not to make these kind of careless mistakes.”

Waylon tried to stifle his sobs. He knew mother hated it when he sniveled and cried, but there was no helping it. She clicked her tongue disapprovingly, taking his chin between two fingers and tilting his head from side to side. “Not good for others to see when you've failed. Take off your shirt Way-Way. We'll keep the rest of the punishments where no one can see. Okay?” Her tone was almost caring.

Waylon obediently took off his shirt and focused on screaming less.

The weekend went by slowly as he hid away in his room, aching and sore. Mother had confiscated his cell phone as part of the punishment. By the time Monday came, there was only a small, fading bruise near Waylon's right eye that was visible. He hid the rest of the welts and bruises by wearing the uniform blazer. He was not fond of the garment, finding it much too formal and stiff. He only wore it when he needed to keep himself hidden.

“Waylon,” sighed Miles when his friend walked into the yearbook room on Monday morning. Miles knew what the blazer meant, and he quickly spotted the fading bruise and frowned. Miles stood up and pulled his friend into a hug, loosening his grip when his hands made Waylon flinch. “Sorry, sorry...” Miles instead moved his hands to the back of Waylon's neck and hugged him that way.

Waylon would have cried if he had any tears left, but he was completely tapped out. He sighed with exhaustion instead, relaxing into the careful embrace.

“What the fuck, Waylon. You should have called or came over,” Miles admonished gently.

“I...it's not what you think. I wasn't watching where I was going. I ran into a door,” Waylon said, his voice flat and dead. The excuse was automatic and pointless. Miles already knew everything.

“Shut up, you idiot,” Miles mumbled against Waylon's hair.

“I'm going to make it right,” Waylon said, nodding.

“You don't have to make something right after someone fucking attacks you. You should report it. Go to the office. Father Martin will listen, or you can talk to the counselor. You never report it, it's got to stop,” Miles said.

“It will stop. I'm almost out of the house. Besides, Mother's been through so much already I can't cause her more pain...”

“You're fucking sick, Waylon. You need help. I should report it myself, I should...”

“I'll just deny it again,” Waylon said, softly. “Just, let it go Miles. And let me go,” Waylon added, pushing away from the hug that had turned almost painfully tight.

“You're my best friend. I worry about you,” Miles said, looking hurt as Waylon pulled away.

“Thanks Miles. You're a good friend. I have to get going though, I'm taking a re-test this morning.”

“Re-test?” Miles asked, looking confused and mussing his hair.

“Yeah. I failed a test,” Waylon said.

“You? You failed a test?” Miles asked incredulously. “You mean you made an A- and your mom freaked out as though you failed...”

“No, I made a D. D- actually,” Waylon said quietly.

“But..you..you never make so much as a B. What class? AP Chemistry? I told you, you were crazy for signing up for that!” Miles said.

“Nope. Economics. I failed that last test,” Waylon said, shrugging.

“But...uh, but that was a really easy test. Shit, I made a B+ and I didn’t even look at the book. And I know you did. You always do.”

“It doesn’t matter what happened,” muttered Waylon. “I'll see you in homeroom.”

“You think you'll still be on for Homecoming this weekend?” Miles asked. He knew that any physical punishment was usually accompanied by some laughably ridiculous length of time being grounded.

“Yeah. My yearbook duties are just as important as my scholastic responsibilities, remember? Berkeley already rejected me with only good grades and a high test score. Yearbook is my only hope,” Waylon exhaled, making his way to the economics classroom.

The make-up test was slightly harder than the original material, but Waylon aced it. Without Eddie there to distract him, he had no trouble at all.

In his weekend depression, Waylon had thought about rejecting Eddie and bailing on Miles. Miles would be upset but understanding. Eddie...well, Waylon had no idea what that guy thought about anything. Yet somehow he thought to himself that since he could not feel much lower, indulging in some physical release with Eddie was at least something to distract him from his other worries. In the end, he chose to continue on as though nothing had changed.

Eddie walked into homeroom as the bell rang, as usual, but when his eyes landed on Waylon, his expression turned dark. The rest of the period was spent with Waylon shifting uncomfortably in his chair, as though he could feel Eddie's eyes on the back of his head. Why was Eddie mad? Waylon had no access to his phone over the weekend. Had he missed an invitation? Or was it something else?

After the bell rang, Waylon dashed toward his next class, attempting to avoid his crush, but was quickly waylaid by Eddie who pushed him against a wall of freshmen lockers. Eddie studied his face, eyes narrowed and brows lowered.

“Who,” Eddie whispered. Waylon's body went rigid with fear and his brown eyes went wide in confusion. “Who did this?”

There were several groups of students, mostly freshmen and sophomores, walking through the halls, which made it even more shocking when Eddie gently ran his fingers across the yellowing bruise on Waylon's face. The redhead's heart raced as he licked his lips, daring to meet Eddie's piercing blue eyes.

“N-n-no one. Accident. I tripped and...”

Eddie slammed his flat hand against the lockers behind Waylon causing the smaller boy to jump, and sending a group of freshmen scurrying to avoid being part of the tense situation developing in the hallway. “Who are you protecting? Was it Walker?”

“W-w-what? Chris Walker? No. No, Eddie, it was an accident, I'm awkward and clumsy you...you know that,” Waylon whispered the last part to avoid anyone overhearing.

The answer did not seem to satisfy Eddie as he remained in place, pinning Waylon to the lockers. He leaned close and pressed his lips gently to the faded bruise. “No one's allowed to hurt you,” he muttered darkly before releasing Waylon and walking down the hall as though nothing strange had happened.

The rest of the day was spent in a daze. Had Eddie kissed him as another twisted joke, or had that been real emotion Waylon sensed from his crush? Was it possible his piteous crying had made some effect and Eddie was considering something more? Waylon quickly dismissed that line of thinking. It would just lead him back to more heartache. Friends with benefits—if they could really be called friends. Toying with his emotions was just another part of the control game Eddie played. Threatening anyone that touched Waylon was not love, it was pride. Some macho need to protect what he had claimed.

Waylon had to meet with the Homecoming Committee after school to take pictures of the preparations being done for the dance on Friday. He was surprised to see Lisa as one of the active members of the committee. She was standing on a small ladder attempting to keep her uniform skirt from rising while simultaneously stretching up as far as possible to hang a snowflake.

“Hi Waylon,” she said politely, blushing as she tucked a stray strand behind her ear. She stepped down from the ladder and greeted him with a smile. “Uh, I asked Miles, but he did not know. What are you wearing on Friday?”

“What am I….wearing? Clothes?” guessed Waylon.

Lisa's eyes crinkled shut and her face tilted to the side as she giggled in a girlishly sweet way. “You're so funny,” she said.

Waylon was funny? He felt an immediate blush rush to his face as he tried to stammer a reply.

“Well, I already bought my dress, and it's knee length and pink. Like, a hot pink really. Fuchsia possibly? Anyways. I know that's not a very manly color so if you don’t want to match I would totally understand, but I wanted you to know in case you were buying a corsage or something...” Lisa could not even meet Waylon's eyes as she spoke, gnawing her bottom lip and staring at the gym floor. Was this girl for real? She was fucking adorable.

“Uh...fuchsia. I will see what I can do, sure,” stuttered Waylon. Lisa glanced up at him through her lashes, giggling the same sweet way as before. “Can I take your picture?” Waylon asked awkwardly. Lisa's face went a shade so dark some may have called it fuchsia. “For the yearbook,” Waylon amended lamely, holding up the camera. “I'm here to take some pictures so, maybe if you wanted to be in the yearbook...”

“Of course,” Lisa said, though her lips quirked into a strange smile. “For the yearbook only.” She nodded still grinning. Then she posed next to a large cardboard snowman. Waylon snapped the photo and nodded.

“Great. What's the theme? Like, Winter Wonderland or something?” Waylon asked, making friendly conversation. The entire gym was filled with white streamers, cut out snowflakes, and a group of students were painting a large canvas background with swirls of white.

“What? No, It's Frozen!” Lisa said, clapping her hands happily. Waylon glanced around the different snow cut outs and strange blue castle. “You know, like the Disney film?”

Waylon scratched his red hair, giving a shrug. “Okay, I've heard of that...”

“We're filling this place with snowflakes and the ice castle will be the backdrop for the pictures and you'll sit on a bench made to look like the sleigh that Ana gives Sven, and we'll have hot cocoa available as part of the refreshments. It's going to be so romantic...”

Waylon zoned out as Lisa continued to babble. Holy shit what was he getting into? He'd never attended a single school dance in his life. This was bad. She continued to drone on for several minutes about the ice crown for the Homecoming Queen. “I’m sorry, this is boring you, isn't it?” said Lisa.

“Oh, no! It’s…I’m just not much of a dance person. I have never been to any school dances before,” said Waylon.

“I’ll make sure you have a great time,” said Lisa. “I know I maybe haven’t made the best impression on you, considering Jeremy’s party and everything…”

“Oh no, I don’t judge you for that. Jeremy, on the other hand…”

“Yeah. You’re different from most of the guys at this school. You’re serious, and quiet, and you help people. This is kind of embarrassing but, I actually started to have a crush on you last year after I heard you were going to Berkeley.”

“Oh, yeah, I did not get into Berkeley after all…”

“No, I heard that. But Miles told me you’re trying again. You’re persistent and hard working and just…you’re really nice. I’m glad we’re going to your first dance together. I’m actually considering Berkeley, too. They’re offering me a scholarship if I play volleyball.”

Waylon’s stomach dropped. “Oh really?”

“Yeah. I have good grades! I mean, not as good as yours. After we went to State with the volleyball team and I heard that you applied, well, I reached out and I guess they’re making an offer. So many we could end up going to the same college.”

“That’s…that’s great Lisa,” said Waylon, feeling strange. He was happy for the girl who seemed very kind and sweet, but he was also immensely depressed to think he still might not get into Berkeley after all this work. A State championship in volleyball was much greater than a semester on the yearbook staff. He fought to keep the gloom he felt away from his face. He really had not given Lisa enough credit. She was bright and talented. Waylon finally looked at his watch and apologized. “I have to take a few more pictures and get going...”

Friday was turning into a source of great stress for Waylon. He needed an outfit. And a corsage—whatever that was. And he had to mentally prepare for his evening with Eddie. Sex all night? Could his body even handle that kind of treatment? He also began to feel slightly guilty about going as Lisa’s date. He had not asked her, as it was something arranged by Miles, but had agreed. She seemed like a nice person who deserved to have a good time, and he would make sure she enjoyed herself—even if he knew he would be leaving with someone different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Homecoming Dance!


	9. Homecoming

Waylon stared at himself in his bedroom mirror wearing his button-down shirt and tie ensemble that his mother had picked out for him. He had opted to go with black and a silver tie instead of attempting any shade of fuchsia. If only he had not been so pale and sweaty, he would have looked attractive. 

The homecoming dance was the first school dance Waylon had ever attended. Miles and the girls came by to pick him up, and Mother embarrassed him by taking dozens of photos of him posing with the entire group in different formation. She also insisted on several of Waylon alone with Lisa in typical couple poses that had him blushing as red as his hair. After the picture ordeal, all four piled into Miles’ red Jeep and headed to dinner. Waylon sat in the back seat, next to Lisa. The dress she was wearing was indeed a bright shade of pink and it fit her very well. The corsage he had purchased with Mother’s help was not quite the same shade, but Lisa seemed pleased.

It was entirely too crowded in the Jeep. Waylon’s arm kept rubbing against Lisa’s on the dividing armrest, and each time it happened, Lisa smiled at him. Waylon was thankful it was a short drive. 

“I feel bad that I never really got to thank you properly for taking care of me that night at Jeremy Blaire’s house,” Lisa said as they rode.

“Oh. I hate to see anyone in that kind of situation,” said Waylon. 

“You’re such a nice guy. You do what you think is right,” said Lisa. Waylon noticed the blush on her cheeks and thought it made her look even cuter. 

Miles pulled into a local restaurant known for cheap burgers and shakes. The girls had requested that they go out for fast food and ice cream instead of any fancy dinner, and the boys were happy to oblige. Since the girls were on the Homecoming Committee and the boys needed pictures for the yearbook, they all had a reason to arrive early and help with set up. They all sat together, chomping on fries and burgers, slurping on milkshakes, and chatting excitedly about the dance. Except for Waylon, who was more excited for what would happen _after_ the dance. He found it difficult to focus on anything his friends were saying. He smiled and nodded occasionally to avoid suspicion.

As soon as they arrived in the gym, decorated like a Frozen wonderland for the evening, Waylon searched for Eddie. He had not gotten to speak with Eddie about the details of their supposed night together, but he felt sure it was going to happen. The crowd was still small, but growing quickly. Eddie Gluskin had not arrived. Waylon's heart hammered when he thought about what would happen that night. Waylon began to create excuses for when he would need to leave his date. 

Waylon felt guilty that Lisa might not have a great night. He wanted to show her a nice evening, but he his shyness was crippling. All his attempts to answer her small talk made him sound ridiculous. As soon as the music began at an unholy volume, Lisa immediately asked him to dance.

“Uh, I want to, but not right now,” Waylon said, feeling himself break out in a cold sweat. “I...uh...we have yearbook obligations,” said Waylon. He congratulated himself on the quick thinking. Miles grumbled as he admitted it was true and the two took off with their school cameras.

The two boys wandered around the decorated gym asking students to pose. Miles chose himself to handle the photographs of the Homecoming Queen and her court, while Waylon was left snapping awkward candid photographs on the dance floor. Some people would pose and ham for the camera, but most would just glare at Waylon. More than a few threw up a middle finger before he could stop himself from taking the shot.

Waylon patrolled the seating area, taking pictures of people posing with their dates. His attention was suddenly drawn by movement in a dark corner of the gym. Waylon held up his camera and zoomed in to see two figures in the shadows. Pink hair, short dress, thigh high socks—it could only be Claire. And the date she was hanging all over?

Eddie was wearing a black vest over a white dress shirt and black slacks. His stripe of black hair had been slicked back for the occasion. He looked bored out of his mind despite the girl on his lap. He was staring out, scanning the crowd.

“Eddie,” sighed Waylon. For a brief moment, Eddie locked on Waylon's gaze as though he had somehow heard the whispered name from across the noisy gym. Waylon fought to keep the heartache away from his face. He had failed somehow. Claire was sitting on Eddie's leg and her slender arms were draped around his neck. Waylon could not stop staring—until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey Waylon! Miles says you can take a break. Dance with me,” asked Lisa, fluttering her considerably thick lashes. She seemed flushed and out of breath from dancing so much, yet she still wanted to dance more with Waylon. He had no choice but to nod feebly and follow Lisa onto the dance floor. Mercifully, a slow song was playing. Waylon put his hands on Lisa's hips and swayed almost to the rhythm.

“So glad we can finally dance,” said Lisa, pulling her body closer to Waylon's and resting her head on his shoulder. Waylon gulped. Why did he feel so guilty? Was it because he was misleading Lisa, or betraying Eddie? Waylon could not stop his eyes from returning again and again to that dark corner.

“I, um, I’m glad too. I’m not much of a dancer…”

“Yeah, you said that before. At Pyro’s, remember?” asked Lisa. The music was loud, but she was close enough that Waylon had no trouble hearing her. He readjusted his sweaty hands around her waist. “You know, you don’t have to be so shy. I know you’ve never had a girlfriend or whatever, but I would never try to do something you didn’t want to do. I just thought guys liked girls that act that way. You know, flirty, happy, giggling…I feel like you may have the wrong impression.” Waylon gulped, a new wave of guilt washing over him. 

“No, I don’t think you’re that way. I think you are nice, and smart, and…cute,” said Waylon, realizing his mistake too late. Lisa just giggled at the slip.

“Well, I don’t usually drink. My dad was an alcoholic so I avoid it, but I guess that night just, peer pressure…” said Lisa.

“And Jeremy Blaire…” said Waylon.

“Yeah. Anyways. I just wanted you to know I’m different than that…” said Lisa.

Across the room, Waylon could see Eddie sitting and eating as much free food as possible. Claire pulled on his shoulder every few minutes, a pout visible even from the distance. Waylon guessed she was begging Eddie to dance, but Eddie was ignoring all of her attempts until he seemed to glance up with a mouth full of chips and spotted Waylon with his arms around Lisa. Waylon’s mouth went dry. Eddie’s glare was frightening. Eddie stood up abruptly, dropping his date out of his lap and grabbing her hand as he roughly led her toward the dance floor. 

Claire clapped happily as they made their way onto the floor, sticking close to Eddie as he pushed through several couples until they were side-by-side with Waylon and Lisa. Eddie held eye contact with Waylon while Claire draped her arms around him and began to sway to the slow song. Waylon felt his insides ignite just being close to Eddie.

Lisa adjusted her grip around his neck as they swayed, and Eddie’s eyes flew to the point of contact. He had a look on his face as though before forced to swallow something disgusting against his will. Waylon’s eyes were wide, and he attempted to communicate with Eddie using only his gaze. Was he really angry?

Waylon pulled Lisa closer and put his head on her shoulder. He heard her give a breathy inhale at the change, though he was only attempting to get a better line of view of his crush. “Eddie,” Waylon mouthed silently where Lisa could not see.

“Hey,” said Eddie. It caused Lisa’s head to raise and Claire to turn around and look at Waylon. Then everyone stared back at Eddie, unsure who he was addressing. 

“Hi,” said Waylon, keeping his grip on Lisa’s waist. Miles and Hope were dancing on his other side and the strange greeting had caught their attention. 

“What do you want, Gluskin?” asked Miles. Eddie did not even glance in Miles’ direction—he continued staring at Waylon.

“Nothing you can give me,” said Eddie, grinning at his own quip. Waylon felt as though his heart had jumped into his throat.

Lisa tugged Waylon closer as the song neared its conclusion. The other couples followed suit and continued to dance through the end of the music. Eddie’s eyes never left Waylon.

The song ended and a new song came on, leading to an abrupt tempo change. Eddie’s hands around Claire dropped and he turned his back on Waylon, stalking off the dance floor. Claire gave chase with an audible huff. Waylon found himself trapped by Lisa on one side and Miles and Hope on the other. Waylon hated dancing—but dancing to a fast tempo especially. He made an effort, giving Lisa a halfhearted smile. It was more or less humiliating.

“Jeez, what’s wrong with your boyfriend,” teased Miles. “So is it true then, about him and Claire? Is she pregnant?” asked Miles. He managed to carry on a conversation easily while dancing with Hope. She seemed to be having a great night and Miles was beaming.

“I don’t know her,” Waylon answered, honestly. All he knew about Claire was what he had witnessed, and gossip he had overheard. All of his attempts to bring her up with Eddie were thwarted by his own shyness or fear of what he might learn. 

“I feel sorry for her,” said Lisa, glancing in the direction that Eddie had fled with Claire following. “We used to be friends in middle school, but she got more into boys than I did in high school. Still, I don’t think it’s fair that people call her a slut.”

“If it looks like a duck and walks like a duck,” muttered Miles, shrugging as he danced against Hope. “Rumor I heard is that she fucked the whole football team last summer.”

“You heard that from Jeremy,” said Hope, frowning at Miles. “He is always trashing Claire. I bet she rejected him. Don’t believe anything that Jeremy says, he’s only cares about one person. If he said those things, it’s probably to promote himself somehow.”

“Seriously? You’re defending that?” Miles asked, jerking his head toward the corner where Eddie had disappeared. Waylon, as well as both girls, turned their heads in the direction indicated in the most conspicuous way possible. Eddie leaned against the wall as Claire pressed against him. It was unclear whether they were talking…or something more. Waylon tried to keep his face neutral, but he failed. Lisa noticed the change in expression and leaned in to whisper.

“It’s okay if you don’t like dancing,” Lisa said. “There are other things we can do.” 

Waylon looked at Miles for help, but he was grinding on Hope, oblivious to Waylon’s plight. Some wingman. There was nothing to save him when Lisa leaned in very close, her lips ghostly across Waylon’s. He attempted to back away, but soon he reached a point where he could tip over backwards if he leaned any further. Lisa’s lips looked soft, and plump as they came closer and closer. She stopped right before their lips met and giggled. “I was only kidding. Why do you seem so nervous about me getting close? Have you never been kissed?”

“Been…kissed,” stuttered Waylon.

“We seriously can do something else though,” said Lisa, holding his hand and walking in the direction of the refreshments. Waylon was sweaty and his throat felt dry so even the too sweet fruit punch was welcome. They sat down at a table out of the way and Waylon sat so that he could still see Eddie standing with his date. He must have been staring, because Lisa followed his gaze to the corner and frowned. “Is something going on with you and Eddie Gluskin?”

Waylon choked on his punch as she asked the question, causing some to land on his shirt. Thank God for black shirts. Waylon looked at Lisa, eyes darting about as he tried to think up some kind of lie. “I...uh…”

“I think I get it,” said Lisa, changing her posture so that she could glance in Eddie’s direction without rousing suspicion. “Is he bullying you?”

“What? No,” said Waylon, though he couldn’t help thinking of their usual interactions and wonder if there wasn’t some truth to her observation.

“Miles says he’s always staring at you, and now he’s talking to you here…” said Lisa. Her lips pursed as she thought. “Well, I need to make sure the Homecoming court is ready to be introduced. Are you taking pictures?”

“Miles is doing those,” said Waylon, standing up with Lisa and walking back toward their belongings. He picked up his yearbook camera and slung the over his head. “I’ll see how else I can help.”

“Alright,” said Lisa, smiling as she met up with a small circle of people talking closely. A rough hand pulled Waylon away from the conversation. It was Eddie’s hand on his collar, dragging him away. Waylon glanced back where his friends were engrossed in the homecoming activities. 

“We're going,” said Eddie, walking out the back door of the gym with his hand still gripping Waylon's arm.

“The dance isn't over for another hour. I have to take pictures. I need to at least say goodbye to...” said Waylon.

“You changed your mind? You don't want me to fuck you senseless tonight? You don't want to wake up and fuck me some more?” Eddie's stare was cold but his words brought immediate heat.

Waylon's only answer was a noise that was uncontrollable and wanton. Eddie chuckled and continued to lead Waylon out the back door of the gym by his arm. 

“Wait,” said Waylon, and Eddie paused to glare at him. “I just, let me just, grab my backpack and send one text.” Eddie’s frown deepened, but he allowed Waylon to collect his belongings. Waylon texted as they walked out the back entrance to the gym together. 

_Sorry I am not feeling well. Walking home._

Waylon managed to send the text to his group of friends, knowing they were busy with the festivities. By the time they realized he had left, it would have been able for him to have arrived at his house. Miles would never drive to his house at a late hour, knowing how Waylon’s mother felt about late visitors. Eddie opened the door and held it open for Waylon.

“This dance sucks anyways. What kind of theme is winter wonderland? Because we live in Colorado? How original...”

“It's Frozen, like the Disney movie...”

“That's somehow worse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next couple chapters are hot.


	10. Nothing Scary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is **that** scene from the manga. I hope I did it justice.

Once they were outside of the gym, Waylon obediently followed Eddie through the parking lot behind the gym. He walked to a dim lit area against the gym wall and retrieved a duffle bag. Eddie smirked as he unzipped the bag and rifled through the contents. He quickly found what he was looking for and held it out toward Waylon. “Change into this, _darling_.”

Waylon took the garment offered by Eddie and stared in confusion. It was a slinky, black material accented with sequins. Waylon held it up and frowned. “Eddie, this is a dress.”

“So observant. No wonder you're the number one student,” said Eddie with a snort. “We're checking into a motel. Now change.”

For several moments, Waylon wondered if Eddie wasn't pulling some prank on him, but his blue eyes remained serious. Waylon jumped into action, taking off his tie and shirt. He glanced around nervous as he stood shirtless and cold in the parking lot, but there was hardly any lighting, and no one around. Waylon slid the dress over his head. Once he was covered, he pulled his slacks off as well. The dress was a snug fit, and it did nothing to flatter his nonexistent curves. The men’s dress shoes Waylon wore clashed with the ensemble. He was so occupied in adjusting the dress that he was surprised when Eddie dropped a mess of plastic-feeling blond hair on his head. 

“Oh, darling. You look absolutely stunning,” grinned Eddie.

Waylon tugged at the wig, trying to fix it so that he could actually see without the fake hair falling into his mouth and eyes. “I don't understand. Where did you get this dress?”

“Borrowed them from the theater props. Don't worry, lots of people borrow stuff. Theater teachers look the other way as long as nothing stays missing for long and is back when it's needed. It suits you, that look,” said Eddie.

“Does this mean you want me to be a girl? You want me to be... _to be blond_?” Waylon asked, the emphasis on the last questioning making it seem that wanting him blond was the worse offense. Eddie laughed at the scandalized expression on Waylon's face.

“I happen to have a thing for redheads,” Eddie admitted, grinning. “I always wondered if there were real fire crotches. I find your true hair color fascinating.” Waylon blushed as Eddie produced a wad of rough paper towels likely originating from the school bathroom.

“Wha…” Waylon started to ask, but his question was answered when Eddie began stuffing the towels down the front of his dress. “Eddie!” Waylon’s protests were ignored as Eddie attempted to even out the two sides, groping the mounds in an effort to make them appear more natural.

“Hah, terrible tits, you’re all crooked,” said Eddie, laughing at Waylon’s horrified expression. “Don’t give me that look. We’ll be at the motel soon. Follow me.”

A cold half hour of brisk walking later, they reached a run down motel with a dirty pool marked “Closed for Repairs.” Eddie walked into the office alone, leaving Waylon to stand outside in his skimpy dress, his body almost numb to the cold at that point. Waylon pulled self-consciously at the skirt, attempting to make it longer, but every tug downward threatened to expose his nipples. It was fine for a boy to show his nipples in public, but if people thought Waylon was a girl—well, that tended to attract notice.

A truck pulled into the parking lot, and an overweight man and a woman wearing clothes far too tight for her saggy body exited the vehicle. They spotted Waylon at the same time and stared hard: the man with curiosity and the woman with a cold sneer.

Oh God. Did they think he was a prostitute? Could they tell he was a boy in a dress? Waylon pressed himself against the wall, hugging the shadows there. The door opened, and Eddie walked out, motel key in hand.

“Come on,” Eddie said, stalking past rows of rooms for rent without even checking to see that Waylon was following. He did not seem to doubt for a second that Waylon would follow. The smaller boy had to jog to keep up. Eddie opened up their room and held the door open for Waylon with a charming smile. “Where are my manners? Ladies first.”

Waylon blushed as he ducked under Eddie's arm and into the motel room. Inside, it smelled like an old ashtray. There were visible stains on the dark carpet and the only furniture was a ratty chair and a bed with a tacky, threadbare comforter. Waylon's cell phone vibrated in his pocket that was currently on his pants inside Eddie's backpack. It only took Eddie a minute to locate the phone and hold it up. 

Waylon moved so he could read the messages at the same time as Eddie. Two missed calls from Miles. When had those happened? Eddie clicked on the text messages.

_Where did you go?_ From Miles.

_Did I scare you away? I'm sorry :(_ From Lisa.

Eddie turned cold eyes onto Waylon. Waylon shuffled away until the backs of his legs hit the motel bed, and he sat down, looking up at Eddie. He loomed above Waylon, leaning down and sliding his hands up the short skirt. He gripped the sides of Waylon's briefs and pulled them down roughly. Waylon yelped as he was exposed, and his skirt was pushed up.

“What did you do with that girl tonight?” Eddie asked, his voice a sultry growl. Large hands encircled Waylon's growing erection and teased the swollen flesh. Waylon moaned and bit his lip.

“Nothing. I don't know,” Waylon said between breaths. He stared up at Eddie still wearing his vest and nice slacks with his hair slicked back save for one strand that refused to stay and fell in his face.

“You wouldn't _not_ know. Did you kiss her?” Eddie's hand squeezed Waylon's length to punctuate the question, drawing out a breathy moan. “Was it your first kiss from a girl?” Eddie leaned closer, his words tickling across Waylon's bare neck. “Did it feel good?” Waylon whimpered, bucking his hips up into Eddie's hand. “Answer me,” demanded Eddie.

Instead, Waylon screwed up his face and stared into Eddie's piercing blue eyes. Waylon manages a defiant huff. “Why do you care?” Waylon panted for breath. “It's not like you're not sleeping with that Claire girl.”

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head with an obnoxious grin on his face.

“Everyone knows about it,” Waylon continued, setting his jaw in a display of stubbornness. “I heard a rumor that she's pregnant.”

Eddie pulled his hand away and stood up, walking over to his backpack. “Really? You think you can get to me with that sort of talk?”

Waylon’s face fell when Eddie did not deny it. Waylon had hoped that he was mistaken, and that nothing had happened between Eddie and Claire. Eddie refused to meet Waylon's pleading eyes, focusing on opening a box instead.

“I'm allowed, darling. You are not,” said Eddie.

Waylon craned his neck to see around the taller boy, trying to ascertain what he was doing. Eddie held a long, purple, phallic shaped object in his hand. He made a ridiculously handsome face as he paused and read something on the back of the box before discarding it in the tiny metal trash can. “Wha...what is that,” Waylon asked, pressing his legs together where he sat.

Eddie turned toward him, holding the device, and gave a wicked grin. “Don't act like you don't know. It's obnoxious. You're not _that_ innocent.”

Waylon watched in horror as Eddie inserted two batteries into one end of the device and tested it. The sudden _buzz_ made Waylon's ass clench in fear.

“Spread your legs,” Eddie instructed, pulling out a large bottle of lube. He opened it and began to apply the slippery substance until the vibrator glistened.

“How can you do that to me?” whispered Waylon, hating that large tears were already rolling down his flushed cheeks. “You really don't care about me at all. You would just have...sex...with that girl, or...or with anyone...”

Eddie crawled onto the bed with a cold expression on his angular face. “If you don't want me to throw you out of this motel room, you need to spread your legs properly. Now,” Eddie said. His glare made Waylon's insides twist, and new tears leak from his eyes. “I thought you were down with whatever.”

“B-b-but..” stuttered Waylon, pressing his legs close together. Waylon frowned, trying to decide if Eddie was serious about throwing him out, and why he hadn’t denied anything with Claire. Finally, Waylon leaned back on his hands and spread his legs, defeated. Eddie wasted no time reaching down to wipe his still slick fingers between Waylon's ass cheeks. He laughed when Waylon clenched at the cold sensation.

“Relax, you're so pink here” Eddie purred, rubbing circles around Waylon's entrance. “Don't you trust me?” Eddie laughed at the angry glare that Waylon immediately leveled at him. “Okay, but don't you trust that I always make you feel good. This is for your enjoyment, darling. So...enjoy it.”

Eddie looked down and focused as he pushed the toy against Waylon's hole. The vibrator was slippery and easily slid past Waylon's tight ring, disappearing slowly inch by inch. Soon, only the handle-end was visible, and Waylon was mewling like a cat in heat.

“Does it hurt?” Eddie asked, giving a cruel laugh.

“Yes,” snapped Waylon, tears springing to his eyes but not falling. “It's _really fucking big_.”

“Ha, you never curse,” Eddie said, “not very ladylike, darling.” His grin infuriated Waylon who glared through tears. Eddie began to slide the slick instrument in and out of Waylon's ass, leaving the smaller boy too breathless to form a coherent retort. “I'm going to turn it on. Unless you still think you want to refuse?”

A broken sob escaped Waylon's lips. Eddie just smirked before turning a dial and watching as the vibrator sprung to life buried deep inside of Waylon. Eddie held the end of the toy, keeping it pushed in place. The smaller boy's hand flew to Eddie's wrist, attempting to pry him away, but failing as he dissolved into a writhing mess of moans and knocking his wig askew.

“No refusal then?” Eddie asked, a dark grin on his face as he watched Waylon.

“N...p-please, s-stop it's...too much...” Waylon barely managed to form words through the sudden blinding ecstasy that had hijacked his body. Eddie snickered at the redhead's distress. “Stop!” Waylon squealed again, panting heavily and leaning his head back. The vibrations constantly teased the spot inside of him that always drove him insane. “Please, no more...” Waylon tried to argue, but it came out as a chest deep moan.

“You aren't hating this at all,” said Eddie, with an amused tone. “You really are a slut, darling.” Eddie grinned as he used his free hand to jerk Waylon's already leaking cock. The sudden contact made Waylon tense and groan.

“No, please, I'm too close...I don't want to...I mean, I want...”

“Tell me what you want,” said Eddie.

“I want,” Waylon's panting and moaning was too loud for him to concentrate. “I can't think when you're doing that!”

“Too bad,” Eddie grunted, not slowing his movements. Each time Waylon's hips reflexively bucked up into his hand he also rocked the dildo inside of him, causing it to reach new depths.

“I want to do it with you,” Waylon managed to pant, sweat breaking out over his entire body, causing the plastic hairs to cling to his face.

Eddie snorted a laugh. “Get me hard then.”

Waylon felt shocked that Eddie could do these things to him without even being aroused. Waylon started to reach for the handle of the toy, but Eddie clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Leave it in. And don’t come.” Waylon gave a horrified whimper as Eddie undid the fly to his black dress pants. Waylon had to roll over and adjust his position while keeping his legs pressed together to stop the vibrator from being forced out when his muscles clenched around it.

Eddie sat back, leaning on his hands, not even helping Waylon pull himself out of his pants. He laughed at Waylon's attempts to keep his body's shaking under control long enough to pull Eddie's semi-hard shaft from his boxers. Waylon wasted no time pushing his mouth down on Eddie.

“You're shaking so much,” said Eddie, smirking. Waylon groaned, having Eddie in his mouth while enduring the vibrator's relentless onslaught was too much. “Don't come,” Eddie repeated the command. His erection grew with each bob of Waylon's head. Eddie chuckled when Waylon’s tears dropped onto his lap while he worked.

“Put yours inside of me,” Waylon begged, looking up at Eddie with shimmering brown eyes.

“Don't even think about coming,” Eddie growled, pushing Waylon's head back down on his lap so roughly the wig was left even more uneven. Waylon choked around the intrusion, but he worked through the involuntary reaction to continue pleasuring Eddie. “That's it, darling.”

“Please” begged Waylon. When he pulled away, a single strand of saliva remained connecting his quivering lip to Eddie's throbbing cock as he stared up, pleading.

“Ask better,” Eddie said, keeping Waylon's chin in place so his eyes would remain on Eddie's.

“Please...please put yours inside of me.”

“My what?”

“Please put your cock inside of me,” Waylon asked breathily.

“On your back,” commanded Eddie, throwing the smaller boy onto the motel bed and almost knocking the wig off entirely. He paused remove his own vest and shirt, taking his time while Waylon watched with barely suppressed lust. Finally, he stepped out of his pants and leveled a hungry gaze at Waylon. Eddie reached down and pulled the vibrator out quickly. The sudden loss made Waylon keen sharply and arch his back off the mattress. He did not have to regret the loss long before he felt himself opening for Eddie. Waylon's knees were pushed up and open, spreading himself completely. The dress was completely pushed up around his stomach. Eddie grunted as he pushed inside, muttering to himself. 

“Forgot to lube myself...Oh well.” He started rocking his hips into Waylon, and he immediately started to pant and moan.

“Don't you dare come without me,” Eddie growled. He started to pump his fist up and down Waylon's ruddy shaft. “Already wet. As soon as I put it in, you're ready to go? That's rude.”

Waylon struggled not to come. It was an impossible task. Waylon swatted his hands against Eddie's bare chest in an ineffectual attempt to gain his attention. “Stop...your hand. If you keep touching me I'll finish.”

“Definitely not stopping,” grinned Eddie, still stroking Waylon with increased speed. “I like it best when I'm inside of you while you're holding back like this.”

Waylon's head lolled back. He panted, moaned, struggled to breathe. Eddie just panted out laughter. “Are you in some kind of pain? Feel like you're dying?” asked Eddie, leaning down to whisper hotly against Waylon's flushed ear. “You're drooling.”

Waylon gurgled in response, unable to register that spit was dripping out of his slack mouth and tears spilling from his eyes. It was too much. Eddie was too much.

“You feel so good,” moaned Eddie. The sentiment made Waylon whimper and writhe anew. The punishing thrusts became erratic. Eddie closed his eyes and groaned as he spilled deep inside of Waylon. The cry that escaped Waylon was broken and hoarse. He screamed out in relief as he finally let go and coated himself with his own release. Eddie gave a tired grin as he pulled out of Waylon before falling face down onto the bed next to him.

Waylon could not move. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. His own seed was drying across his stomach and dress, and Eddie’s slowly seeping out of his hole.

Eddie lifted himself up on one elbow and grinned at Waylon. “You look satisfied.”

Waylon tried to form coherent words, but failed. Eddie laughed and dropped his head back down on the pillow.

“Eddie,” Waylon finally managed, turning to look at Eddie lying on their rented bed.

“Hmm,” Eddie vocalized, not bothering to lift his head.

“Earlier...at the dance,” Waylon's voice was barely a whisper, and he almost lost his nerve and dropped the subject, but somewhere he found the courage. “...were you jealous?”

“Hmm,” Eddie grumbled, turning his head so that Waylon could look into his bright blue eyes. The two boys stared for several heartbeats. “I forget.”

“Don't forget,” Waylon said. His large eyes were tired but imploring. Eddie had to look away. 

“So what if I was,” Eddie said into the pillow.

Waylon scooted his body closer, draping an arm around Eddie's shoulders. “I'm glad,” he whispered before nuzzling his sweaty face into the crook between Eddie's neck and shoulder.

Eddie turned and wrapped his arms around Waylon's waist, pulling him close—holding him tight. They stayed pressed together for several minutes as their breathing calmed from their activities.

“You scare me sometimes,” Eddie said, his words muffled against the skin on Waylon's shoulder.

“There's nothing scary,” Waylon whispered gently against Eddie's neck. Neither remembered falling asleep, nor letting go of the other.

In the middle of the night, Waylon woke up suddenly to find Eddie thrashing in the bed. An indecipherable jumble of words forced itself from between clenched teeth. His entire body shone with sweat—the sheets were soaked with it. Waylon stared in horror for a few moments while the thrashing resumed.

“Shhhh,” whispered Waylon in the dark motel room. He reached out and wrapped his arm around Eddie. He resisted the embrace, but Waylon locked his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, tightly. “Eddie, wake up. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

There was no response. If anything, Eddie grew stiffer, more distressed, his breathing came in shallow, jagged breaths. A high pitched whine escaped his trembling lips.

“Eddie,” Waylon whispered, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck. He planted a gentle kiss on Eddie’s clammy cheek. “You’re okay. Wake up, Eddie.”

When Eddie finally woke, his eyes snapped open and his chest seized as his eyes darted around the room. He gasped and gurgled simultaneously. It felt as though every muscle in his body quivered. 

“You're okay,” reiterated Waylon, kissing Eddie's temple gently. “It was just a dream.”

Eddie stopped struggling and deflated on the motel bed. Waylon pushed up on an elbow and leaned over Eddie, brushing the wild strands of sweaty black hair out of Eddie's still terrified eyes. “Shh,” he whispered, kissing Eddie’s face again.

Eddie clenched his eyes shut and held still for several moments as his breathing regulated. Waylon wanted to ask what had happened, but if it had such a profound reaction from Eddie it was probably best not to relive it at that time. A quick glance at the motel clock showed it was still the wee hours of the morning. Plenty of time to go back to sleep and rest together. Eddie rolled onto his side and pulled Waylon closer until their foreheads were touching.

“You really do scare me...” Eddie whispered into the stillness of their motel room.

“Even though I saved you from a scary dream?” asked Waylon, trailing his fingers across Eddie's clammy chest.

“Because you did...”

The two boys fell back asleep, wrapped in one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The morning after is coming up <3


	11. Freckles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankful to my great beta MoxyMike! <3 I was nervous about this one, I don't do fluff very well, so it's kinda short. Another familiar scene.

Waylon woke to the sensation of warmth against his neck. It took a few moments before he realized that Eddie was kissing him. He willed his body to stay rigid, feigning sleep. He did not want to do anything to scare Eddie away. His crush was kissing him so softly, lavishing his tongue across Waylon's skin, running fingers lightly across Waylon's cheek.

Waylon allowed himself a few blessed moments to believe that Eddie was showing some sort of emotion. They had not kissed since he had initiated it after their first time together. Suddenly, Eddie could not keep his lips away from Waylon's skin. Waylon was afraid to break the spell of such a perfect morning.

When Waylon's eyes finally fluttered open, they met Eddie's blue eyes, already dilated with desire. “Morning,” mumbled Eddie before devouring Waylon's lips with a breath-stealing kiss. Waylon wasted no time slipping an arm around Eddie's neck and holding him as tight as possible. Eddie rolled on the bed and positioned himself on top of Waylon without breaking their kiss.

For a fleeting moment, Waylon wondered if he was still asleep. It was like a dream—kissing Eddie and feeling him kiss back with equal vigor. Waylon was inexperienced, having only ever kissed one person, but Eddie seemed quite adept at kissing. His lips were firm yet gentle as they worked. Waylon struggled to keep up, trying to communicate everything he could never say to Eddie through teeth and tongue and lips. The kiss ignited a feeling in Waylon’s chest, as well as his groin. Everything seemed perfect as Waylon stroked his hands along the shaved part of Eddie’s head, willing him to continue.

Eddie broke the kiss and took a deep breath. “I hate kissing,” he said before stealing another long taste of Waylon's lips. As suddenly as it all began, Eddie pulled away and began to strip off his remaining clothing. Waylon followed suit, happy to be rid of the tangled dress from the previous evening. Eddie knelt at the end of the bed, naked, and his eyes were locked on Waylon where he lay equally bare on his back. Eddie crawled slowly back on top of Waylon and resumed their deep kissing.

Waylon moaned into the kiss, carding his fingers through Eddie's strip of hair, moving his lips gently against Eddie's mouth. Eddie pulled away to reach the lube on the bedside table. Waylon was acutely aware of the lack of commands or any instructions at all. Their heavy breathing was the only sound breaking the silence. Waylon watched as Eddie carefully coated his member with the slippery substance. He coated his hand and wiped the excess along Waylon’s ass. There was no warning when he began the slow process of working himself inside. Waylon relaxed, spreading his legs, raising his hips, silently conforming to Eddie’s desires. He was sore from the previous night, but he badly wanted this gentle treatment. His body craved the feeling of Eddie filling him. Eddie closed his eyes and groaned as Waylon's heat enveloped him entirely. The moment their hips finally met, their kissing resumed.

Eddie claimed to hate kissing, but that morning, he couldn’t seem to get enough. Once he was buried inside of Waylon, he wasted no time driving himself deep with slow, rolling movements. Waylon moaned into their continued kisses, not wanting to pull away. He clutched Eddie close and wrapped his thin legs around his waist. There was no pause as they moved together, Eddie pushing in and Waylon’s hips rising to meet every thrust.

Eddie finally pulled away from the kiss, allowing them to catch their breath. “Kissing...” Waylon managed to gasp out, “...maybe it's not as disgusting as you think.”

Eddie huffed at the sentiment. He started to thrust inside Waylon with a new, harsh, staccato rhythm that left them both panting and moaning. Eddie watched Waylon's face while pushing deep inside of him again and again. Waylon squirmed and groaned, his body reacting to every shift of Eddie's movements. He let his head fall back on the mattress and closed his eyes.

“Open your eyes,” said Eddie. Waylon's eyes flew open at the command, and Eddie stared into their depths as he continued to push inside. “Look at me.” Eddie hunched over above him, leaning down until their foreheads met as he continued to grind deeper. Waylon kept his eyes open, meeting Eddie’s gaze even though he was so close it was impossible to read any expression there. “Tell me you love me.”

The request shocked Waylon and he paused for a moment, gasping at the continued penetration. “I...like,” Waylon managed to pant out between brutal thrusts.

“Say it better,” growled Eddie, moving to clamp his teeth down on Waylon's tender neck. He cried out and attempted to pry Eddie away, but the pressure did not lessen until Eddie was satisfied that his request would be taken seriously.

“I…Love,” was all Waylon managed, his voice breaking before he could continue.

“Sit up,” Eddie ordered, grabbing one of Waylon's lanky arms and wrapping it around his own shoulders. “Wrap yourself around me.” Waylon followed Eddie's lead and sat up with assistance. Soon he was rocking on Eddie's lap with his scrawny arms around his neck. “Press closer,” Eddie said, though Waylon heard the desperation behind the words. All of Eddie’s commands started to sound more like pleas. Waylon wondered for a brief moment if this wasn’t Eddie’s way of expressing how much he wanted to be loved by someone.

Soon, Waylon's limbs were wrapped around Eddie. Their bodies slowly sliding against one another as Eddie continued to thrust upwards, gripping Waylon’s hips. Eddie leaned forward, resting his chin on Waylon's shoulder, holding him close. Waylon had no way to see his face and judge his reaction. Everything felt different. Eddie's hands caressed his back, forcing their bodies tight against one another. The pace remained steady and slow.

“Eddie,” Waylon exhaled softly against his lover's skin.

“Darling,” was the soft reply.

Eddie continued to rock their bodies together. They held one another as if afraid the other would vanish if either let go. Eddie pulled his face away from Waylon's neck long enough to kiss him, gripping his red hair to hold his mouth at his mercy. The action stunned Waylon for a moment before he responded to Eddie's touch, kissing back with enough vigor to convince him of his sincerity. Their lips finally broke apart, and they hovered, panting into each others' mouth.

Waylon arched his back, feeling Eddie inside of him gliding just right. He moaned against Eddie's mouth as he sprayed hot come across their stomachs. Waylon waited for a taunt, a jab--at least a small laugh. Instead, Eddie groaned at Waylon's shameless display. He pushed Waylon up and down on his lap, gasping softly as he filled Waylon with proof of his enjoyment.

It was early. Too early. The two boys toweled off and wrapped themselves around one another once again. That time, Eddie was not plagued with nightmares, and Waylon fell asleep feeling truly satisfied, for the first time in a long time.

Waylon did not realize the shower had been running until he heard it turn off. He woke and attempted to raise his head, only to flop back down on the mattress as though his bones had liquefied. His entire body was sore. He could barely angle his head enough to watch Eddie walk out of the motel bathroom, glistening wet, wearing only a towel. Waylon smiled dreamily.

Eddie laughed at Waylon's expression. “You look happy about something.”

“Everything hurts,” said Waylon, his words muffled by the comforter pressing against his mouth.

“You're welcome,” Eddie said, removing the towel from around his waist and using it to dry his dripping black hair. “Are you trying to say you want to go again, darling?”

“I can hardly walk home as it is,” said Waylon, shamelessly staring at Eddie's bare genitals.

“My eyes are up here, Park,” grinned Eddie once he was finished with his hair. He walked back into the bathroom, out of sight, appearing again when he had on a white tank and different boxers from the night before. Waylon slowly realized he was still completely naked under the scratchy comforter, and very sticky in some places. He really needed to get up and shower.

Eddie plopped down on the bed next to Waylon and pulled the comforter back, laughing at Waylon's nudity. “You have so many freckles,” Eddie said, sliding his fingers along Waylon's back.

“That tickles,” giggled Waylon, ashamed that he could actually even make such a high pitched sound.

“Sorry, darling,” said Eddie, increasing the pressure on his touch to avoid tickling. Pale flesh twitched at his touch, but no more giggles. Waylon smiled, but with his face so close to the comforter Eddie would never know. “Oh wait, I have an idea.”

Waylon felt the bed adjust and then there was a strange sensation on his back. Waylon lifted his head, curiously. "Stay still," Eddie commanded. Waylon realized Eddie was dragging an instrument across his skin. A pen, perhaps?

"Uh...Eddie," Waylon said, pausing to yawn. "What are you..."

"Stay. Still," Eddie reiterated. Waylon's body sank into the mattress as he stilled his body. The sensation was enjoyable--lines being traced over his skin with medium pressure. "I'm playing connect the dots,” Eddie said finally.

Waylon started to ask for clarification as it dawned on him what Eddie meant. He was drawing on Waylon's skin to connect the myriad of freckles covering his pale skin. Waylon groaned in embarrassment and aggravation. “Don't draw on me,” Waylon said.

"Your skin is just too beautiful. You have incredible bone structure. I enjoy looking at you naked like this." Eddie leaned down and softly kissed Waylon's back. The smaller boy sighed happily. “Sometimes I can't get enough of you."

Once Eddie grew bored of drawing, Waylon was able to get up and make his way to the bathroom. He strained his neck to see his back reflected in the mirror to view what Eddie had drawn. Waylon frowned.

"Eddie," he whined, still looking at his back. Loud laughter from the main room answered. “That's not funny." Waylon frowned at the mirror where he saw his back reflected with the outline of a dick drawn in ballpoint pen.

"Take a shower. If anything doesn't wash off, your shirt will cover it. Only I will see it, anyways. Unless you're showing your skin to someone else? In which case, I will be jealous,” Eddie said.

"You would be jealous?" Waylon asked, poking his head out of the bathroom to gauge Eddie's facial expression. Eddie stared at the blank television, no real emotion visible. Waylon sighed and dipped back into the bathroom to finish his morning routine.

"Of course I would be jealous," Eddie finally answered from the other room. "You're mine."

Waylon showered with the tiny sliver of complimentary motel soap and a scratchy washcloth. He did not want to think the morning had been more of Eddie’s twisted game. He wanted to believe that maybe there was actually something between them. He finished up his shower and dressed in the clothes he had brought. Eddie was lying on the bed, smoking a cigarette and staring at the ceiling.

“Eddie,” said Waylon, sitting on the edge of the bed where Eddie rested. He hummed in response, exhaling more acrid smoke into the tiny room. “I like being with you like this. But if you are in a relationship with…with Claire, I need to know.”

“I’m not with Claire,” said Eddie, as though that should be obvious. He sat up and extinguished the butt in the used ashtray. He stared at the smoldering remains and the last wisps of smoke. Waylon knew he should drop the subject, but it had taken him so long to gain the courage he could not stop there.

“Well, it _looks_ like you are--and people talk about it,” said Waylon.

“That was the idea,” said Eddie, with a shrug.

“Why would you do that? Why would you fake a relationship just to make me jealous? That’s…that’s…”

“Who said it was your benefit, darling? Rather conceited to think that way, don’t you think?” asked Eddie. The familiar mocking smirk that stripped away Waylon’s confidence was back on his face.

“I don’t understand,” said Waylon, chewing on his lower lip as he tried to make sense of the information. “You pretend to be with Claire so people don’t know you’re gay?”

“Who said I was gay?” Eddie asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Now you’re making assumptions.”

“But…you…we…”

“I will deal with the situation next week,” muttered Eddie. “And you. Stop dating that girl.”

“Wha…I’m not dating…” Waylon bit his tongue before he could say ‘anybody.’ He hoped that he could consider himself to be in a relationship with Eddie. If Eddie was asking him not to date anyone else then maybe it was a sign they could be together officially? Or more likely, it was more controlling behavior. Waylon sighed and nodded. “I understand. I’ll talk to Lisa.”

“Although I suspect your yearbook friend is probably more to your liking, right?” asked Eddie with a sly grin on his face. “You have a crush on him, I bet.”

Waylon stared hard at the carpet and did not answer. Miles was his best friend, and he definitely found him attractive, but that did not mean he wanted to date his best friend. “I’ve known Miles since middle school. We’re just friends.” Eddie shrugged and started to pack up his belongings. Waylon got the feeling he was purposely avoiding his gaze. “I only want to be with you.” Eddie stopped in the middle of shoving clothes into his bag and turned a smirk on Waylon.

“You have terrible taste in men,” said Eddie.

The two boys checked out with their meager belongings and walked the few miles to their houses. Waylon wore a pair of comfortable jeans and a wrinkled t-shirt. Eddie had clean jeans, a black shirt, and his backpack slung over his shoulder. He continuously grinned over at Waylon, smoking cigarettes to pass the time.

Waylon walked with a puzzled look on his face, trying to process everything that had happened that weekend. Eddie had definitely been jealous at the dance. The last time they had sex it felt more like love making than anything they had done before. And Eddie was not dating Claire.

They arrived at the crosswalk where their paths diverged. Eddie swooped in and kissed Waylon's mouth, leaving the taste of smoke and sulfur on his lips. Waylon had to wait for the shock to wear off before he could push himself against Eddie and return the kiss. He slid his hands around Eddie’s neck and gently stroked the shaved back portion of his head, urging him to continue. The kiss continued for longer than necessary with traffic speeding in the background.

“See you on Monday,” said Eddie, lighting up another cigarette as he walked away.

“Whatever,” said Waylon, grinning.

\-----

At home, Mother was waiting for him in the living room pouring over a stack of medical text books.

“How was the dance?” asked Mother, a knowing smile on her face. “Did you dance with Lisa? Who was voted Prom Queen?”

Waylon stuttered and stared at his feet, flustered. “Um, yes, I danced with Lisa. She’s very nice. The Prom Queen was…I don’t remember her name, Miles was in charge of photographing that portion. I was on break.”

“Ah, it’s so wonderful that you’re having a real, true to life, high school experience! It’ll give you something great to write in your second entrance essay. The brainy boy, branching out, joining clubs, going to dances, all because he wants to contribute more to Berkeley than just a high test score. It’s brilliant,” said Mother, smiling to herself. “Well, I needed to talk to you about this weekend.”

“You mean, coming up? Fall Break after midterms?” asked Waylon, readjusting his overnight bag on his shoulder.

“Yes. I am trying to juggle my schedule around because we are going to visit Aunt Carol in Denver for the four day weekend,” said Mother.

“Wait, why such short notice?” asked Waylon. He felt his heart drop at the thought of missing out on a long weekend spending time with Eddie. He had been hoping for some relaxing time after the stress of his midterm exams.

“I was not sure if my work schedule would line up. I am hoping that it does. I just found out I will be on call during Thanksgiving, so instead of going to Denver in November, we’ll just go now! You always have fun at Aunt Carol’s. You get to play with Cody and Ben.”

“Yeah,” said Waylon, trying not to sound so depressed. A weekend with his cousins was not bad, but it could never be as great as a weekend with Eddie. “Well,” said Waylon. “I’ll be studying for the rest of the day. Exams are coming up.”

“That’s my boy,” she beamed as Waylon gave a sad smile and walked up the stairs, wincing slightly. It was painful how sore he was, but he welcomed the discomfort. A constant reminder of Eddie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More cuteness coming up


	12. I'm an Adult

Monday morning, Waylon arrived early to upload the Homecoming pictures onto the yearbook's designated computer. He deleted all the unusable pictures and separated the best photos by type before he heard a knock at the door. Waylon narrowed his eyes. Miles never knocked; he would barge in like he owned the room.

Eddie walked in and closed the door behind him, causing Waylon's mouth to drop open in surprise as he stood up. “What are you doing...” was all Waylon got out before Eddie kissed him, hard.

Eddie had no problem maneuvering Waylon into his arms. He held on tight, forcing Waylon to submit to the kiss. Eddie's tongue pushed deeper into Waylon's mouth than ever before, causing his knees to go weak. He was left gasping and trembling when Eddie finally pulled away.

“I wanted to see you,” Eddie said, as though the answer was obvious. Waylon felt the first sting of tears and began blinking his eyes rapidly to keep them back. “So cute,” Eddie said with a crooked grin.

“Miles comes up here before class most mornings,” Waylon whispered, wiping at the corners of his brown eyes as he craned his neck to look around Eddie, toward the door. “He could walk in at any moment.”

“Then I won't make you suck me off,” Eddie said, smirking as though he had made some joke. Waylon was not sure that he had. “Can you come over today? After work?”

“We’ve got midterms this week. I’m going to a chemistry study session in the library after school. Do you want to study together, maybe?” asked Waylon.

“Depends on what you mean by ‘study’” said Eddie with a wicked grin.

“No, _actually_ study. I can’t do poorly on my exams. My mom would flip out. Which is bad considering I’m going to be alone with her all weekend for the fall break,” muttered Waylon. The thought of making anything less than a perfect score left his insides in knots.

“As long as I get to see you some time this week,” said Eddie, leaning in to kiss Waylon’s cheek before backing toward the door. “See you in homeroom.” He opened the door and almost bumped directly into a sleepy eyed Miles Upshur.

“Gluskin? What the fuck are you doing up here?” Miles asked, scratching his mussy brown hair in confusion. “Staff is full right now. And it doesn't pay anything.”

Eddie just snickered and walked by Miles, his shoulder pushing the yearbook editor off balance. “What the fuck was that?” Miles demanded of Waylon once Eddie had disappeared around a corner in the hall.

“Eddie stopped by. Sorry, I got here early. I already reviewed the Homecoming pictures...”

“Yeah, Homecoming. What the hell happened to you man? You know I had to drive Lisa home, and she looked heartbroken. I'm pretty sure she was crying but trying to hide it. If you were that freaked out by a little kiss, just signal me—don’t run away! You didn't even answer texts. Some freshmen said they saw you leave out the back with Eddie Gluskin, and I figured they had no idea who they saw, or were playing some prank. Then I show up and who greets me at the door...”

“She was coming on really strong,” said Waylon. “I didn’t know how to gently reject her. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I bailed. You know I didn't want to go in the first place. But…don’t worry. I’m going to talk to her. I will make it right.” Waylon gave a weak smile but Miles was still staring at him through narrowed gray eyes. “I got plenty of pictures before I left? Take a look, we’re in good shape!”

“Pictures, who gives a shit, you missed the craziest part. Chris Walker flat out assaulted me,” said Miles, turning his face to better showcase the bruise on his left cheek below his eye. “He’s still pissed about me going out with Hope. She doesn’t even like him. It makes no sense. He dragged me out back. I was afraid he was going to kill me, man! He wrapped his hands around my neck, but before he squeezed he just...walked off, looking pissed. Security kicked him out,” Miles said, his hands waving as he got into the story telling.

“Oh, and _then_ Jeremy Blaire had a confrontation with that Claire chick you were so interested in. He was spouting that same rumor about how she fucked the whole football team. He even told everyone she was fucking Gluskin in some misguided attempt to make _Jeremy_ jealous. She's definitely pregnant —the rumors were true. She ran out crying after that.”

“Jesus, all this happened after I left?” Waylon asked.

“Yeah. Gluskin was missing, too. You're _positive_ you don't know anything about that?” Miles asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“What are you even implying Miles?” Waylon countered.

“I don't know...yet,” Miles said, pushing his way into the room and taking the seat at the computer Waylon had previously occupied. “Hmm. Some of these aren't bad,” he reluctantly offered as he glimpsed the screen where Waylon's pictures were displayed. “I'm still not happy with the way the dance went down, though. You know better than to ever leave me alone. I was your ride. How did you even get home?”

Waylon gathered his things and shrugged, leaving Miles to stare in confusion. Waylon had enough to worry about without Miles on his case. “I need to do something before school starts. See you in homeroom.”

Mount Massive Catholic High School was a small school which meant there were only two homeroom classroom for the senior students. Lisa was not in Waylon’s homeroom, which meant she had to be in the other. He peeked in the door and saw her sitting with her back facing him, deep in conversation with Hope Williams. Waylon cleared his throat and leaned in the doorway. “Lisa?”

Hope noticed him first and nudged Lisa to turn around. She saw Waylon and gave an irritated exhale through her nose. She said something to Hope and walked to meet him at the doorway. They stepped into the hallway for more privacy.

“So, you bailed on the dance,” said Lisa, frowning as she met Waylon’s eyes with a cold gaze.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you, because you’re very nice, and a great person, and really smart, and cute…” Waylon paused to take a deep breath, trying to keep himself from rambling. “I’m…I’m sorry, but I do not like you in _…that_ way.”

Lisa snorted and turned up her nose. “I got the hint when you left me at the dance. It seemed to me we were really hitting it off.”

“We were,” said Waylon, “…as friends.”

“Do you have a girlfriend or something? Miles said you’d never dated anyone,” said Lisa, turning a suspicious look on Waylon. They were almost the same height which made it very difficult to avoid her piercing blue stare.

“I don’t want to date any _girls_ ,” said Waylon. Lisa rolled her eyes. And then her eyebrows slowly rose as she seemed to hear new meaning behind the words.

“As in, you don’t _like_ girls?” asked Lisa. Waylon’s entire face went beet red. He had never come out to anyone before, and certainly had not planned on coming out to Lisa, of all people. The truth was the only thing he could offer that would atone for the way he had mistreated her.

“I never meant to make you sad,” said Waylon, trying to lead the conversation in a different direction. Lisa leaned in close and dropped her voice to a whisper.

“Are you gay?” she asked, blue eyes going wide with curiosity. Waylon did not answer. All the color that had rushed to his cheeks subsequently drained until he was paper white. His eyes darted as he waited for the ridicule—the laughter. He prepared to run. “It’s okay if you are. My cousin got married to his boyfriend as soon as it became legal. My family is pretty progressive about it. Does anyone else know? Does _Miles_ know?”

“No, please,” whined Waylon, panic seizing his lungs.

“Hey,” said Lisa, reaching out a hand to squeeze his shoulder. “I’m glad you told me. I wish maybe you had told me sooner, because I actually do think you’re pretty cute and interesting. I hope we can be friends, anyways. And don’t worry, I won’t out you to anyone.”

“Thank you,” said Waylon just as the bell rang. “Class, but…thanks Lisa, and…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for who you are,” said Lisa, a small smile on her lips. “But you should be sorry for leading me on. You tease.” Waylon started to cower away until he saw that she was joking. She giggled and joined the throng of students moving into the classroom. “See you around.”

The whole exchange had gone much smoother than Waylon had anticipated. He was not sure what to expect. Crying? Throwing things? Cursing at him for being a jerk? It was a relief that she had accepted the news with such an open mind. He wondered if he could expect so much understanding from his own family. From Miles? He doubted his friend would accept the news as maturely.

After school, Waylon prepared to head to his study session in the library. Waylon stared at all of the books in his locker and then began piling them into his orange backpack one by one.

“You need _every_ single book? Really?” asked Miles.

“I can’t afford to make any more mistakes,” said Waylon, sighing as he loaded his giant chemistry tome into the bag and started the battle of getting the zipper to close around the bulging load.

“ **Upshur** ,” came a bellowing yell from down the hallway.

“Shit. Walker. Hide me,” said Miles, glancing around with frightened gray eyes.

“Me?! Yeah right!” said Waylon, his voice coming out as a high-pitched squeak.

“Some help you are,” said Miles before glaring and diving into Waylon’s open, and empty, locker. Waylon followed his lead and slammed his locker shut just as the loud footsteps of Chris Walker resonated behind him. Waylon shouldered his ridiculously heavy backpack and turned around. He slowly lifted his head so that he was looking into the angry blue eyes of the largest boy in school.

“Where is your boyfriend,” asked Chris through his teeth, his mouth in a wide snarl.

Waylon shook his head violently in an effort to look convincing. He was suddenly reminded that he had not visited the bathroom since before lunch and worried about embarrassing himself in the school hallway. “I…I don’t know. I haven’t seen him.”

Chris gave a loud exhale through his nose that reminded Waylon of a bull about to charge a matador. “Then I need you to give him a message for me,” he said, balling one of his giant fists and pushing it into his opposite palm creating a loud _smacking_ sound. Waylon gulped and shrunk away from the towering boy. He squeezed his eyes shut just as Chris raised one thick hand near his face.

“Wrong,” said Eddie. Waylon dared to peek through his lashes and saw Eddie standing in the hallway. His posture suggested he was relaxed and not facing down the most intimidating boy in school. While all the other students in the hallway had dashed away to avoid being an accidental target to Chris’ angry tirade, Eddie had come to his rescue. He carefully inserted himself between Waylon and Chris, shoving the smaller boy out of the way.

“I’ve had enough of your shit,” said Chris before lunging forward toward Eddie, leading with his right fist. Eddie easily avoided the blow and countered by bringing his elbow up into Chris’ chin as his momentum carried him into the lockers with a loud _bang_. Waylon watched in horror as Chris stood upright and brought a hand to his face. He stared at the blood on his hand as though he could not believe what he was seeing. “Oh, you’re dead now, Gluskin.”

“Really? I can keep hurting you all day,” said Eddie, standing in front of the lockers with a posture that suggested a tensed bowstring ready to launch. Waylon was surprised at how comfortable Eddie seemed in a fight.

Chris spit a mouthful of blood in the hallway and glared at Eddie. “You’re not worth my time. You,” he said, glaring where Waylon was still cowering on the floor leaning against his overloaded backpack, “tell Upshur I’m going to find him.” After the final threat, Chris turned away and stalked down the hallway. In the distance, a small crowd had gained enough courage to peek at the ordeal, but they quickly scattered as Chris approached.

“You okay?” Eddie asked, leaning down and lending a hand to help Waylon back on his feet. The unwieldy backpack made him unsteady, but he managed to stand upright.

“Yeah. Are _you_ okay? That looked painful,” said Waylon, frowning. In answer, Eddie pushed Waylon’s chest, forcing him to stumble backwards until his back hit the lockers. “Wait, Eddie, Miles…”

Waylon’s protests were cut off when Eddie pushed Waylon against the locker and kissed him. Waylon attempted to shake his head, but Eddie grabbed his chin and held him in place. Soon, he was unable to resist the firm caresses of Eddie’s lips against his own. One knee pushed out and wedged between Waylon’s leg, causing him to moan a protest into the kiss even as his hips reacted to the new stimulant. He attempted to push on Eddie’s shoulders, trying to break the kiss, to warn him about the locker—though it was likely too late.

“Come over tonight, after you study,” Eddie said, finally, his voice husky and low. He kept Waylon pressed against the locker. “I won’t let you move until you agree. Say yes. I’ll order a pizza. You’re paying.”

“Yes, yes, fine, just, Eddie, _please—_ ”

“Good,” Eddie said, planting a parting kiss on Waylon’s lips before standing up straight and glancing around. The hallway was still empty but already the sound of students returning echoed off the walls. “See you after work.” He walked off with a crooked grin on his face.

Waylon remained backed against the locker for several breaths. He turned slowly, feeling his palms shaking. Miles. He pulled his backpack back onto his back, then pushed the handle on his locker to open it…and ran.

The sound of Miles falling out of the locker and calling after him followed him down the corridor. Waylon continued to run, choosing hallways he usually avoided in an effort to lose his friend. Mount Massive could be confusing to the uninitiated. He took a convoluted route through the twisting corridors to reach the library. He wasn’t sure how he could focus on any kind of studying between running from Miles and thinking of his evening plans with Eddie.

Eddie's apartment was a short walk, and Waylon approached the steps cautiously. He smelled cigarettes and saw smoke drifting from the second floor walkway above the precarious metal stairs. He quietly ascended and was greeted by Eddie smoking with a man wearing a Pizza Hut uniform.

“Ah, see, told you he was coming. Pay the man, Park,” Eddie said, dropping his cigarette onto the ground and snuffing it out with the bottom of his boot. Waylon fumbled for his wallet and held out a twenty dollar bill to the man. He grabbed it and nodded to Eddie.

“Thanks, kid,” said the pizza man, walking down the stairs.

“Eddie,” hissed Waylon. “How much was it?”

“Don't worry, twenty was more than enough,” Eddie said, nodding. He opened the door to his apartment and held it for Waylon to enter.

“I'm aware of that, how much did I just tip?!” he asked, following Eddie into the apartment.

Eddie laughed. “Who gives you money? Your mom?” Waylon frowned in answer. “That's what I thought.”

“I didn't mean it in any kind of condescending way. I just don't usually tip more than twenty percent,” Waylon explained.

“Twenty percent is like a guideline. You pay for the service. That guy just brought a pizza, to your door, so you didn't have to do shit. Isn't that worth ten dollars for the convenience?”

“So you, a person with absolutely no cash, claim to be a generous tipper?” Waylon asked, sarcastically.

“I will be one day. When I get a real job,” Eddie said, holding the door open.

“Why don't you get a real job now?” Waylon asked.

“I want to finish school. First in my family to graduate from high school. And a fancy one at that. Thanks to Claire,” Eddie said.

“Wait...Claire from school? She what, pays your tuition?” Waylon asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“Nah, her dad's on the school board. More like they just waive it,” said Eddie. Waylon frowned considering the news.

“Why would she do something like that for you?” asked Waylon.

“We help each other out,” said Eddie. He sighed and opened the pizza box, pulling out a large slice oozing with cheese and covered with every kind of meat you could pay a pizza place to put on a pizza. Eddie tore into the food.

Waylon shrugged and reached for a slice of his own, and the two boys ate in silence for several minutes. Waylon unpacked a couple bottles of water he had brought and offered one to Eddie who grabbed it greedily. Waylon was comfortable sitting quietly with Eddie in the small, dingy apartment, eating pizza.

“You probably shouldn't be buying dildos if you can't afford food,” Waylon noted, a mouth full of pizza.

“It was important. I needed to see if you really, truly would let me do anything I wanted to you,” Eddie said, grabbing a second piece of pizza and pulling it up as the cheese turned into gooey strings connecting the piece to its mother pie. “It was a good investment.”

Waylon snorted, chewing his pizza. “If you say so, Eddie.” The boys ate for a while in silence before Waylon decided to try again at conversation. “Has your dad been around recently?”

“No. Thank God for that,” Eddie said, picking up pieces of fallen meat and shoving them in his mouth with his greasy fingers. “Been on the look out for him, though. Or my dad's brother. If they're staying here, I don't want to be here.”

“Where would you sleep then?” Waylon asked, frowning across the flimsy table at Eddie.

“Anywhere but here,” Eddie grumbled. He continued to shovel pizza into his mouth long past when Waylon was already stuffed from two large pieces. Eddie finally admitted defeat when just two small slivers remained. Eddie sat back in the cheap chair and belched loudly.

“Attractive,” muttered Waylon, but Eddie only laughed. “I'm serious though. I'm worried about you. When I think about you here cold, hungry and alone, I feel...sad.”

“Yeah well, I don't need your pity. I handle myself just fine,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes and wiping his greasy fingers off on his stained white shirt.

“We're just kids, though,” Waylon continued.

“You're a kid. I'm eighteen, I'm an adult,” said Eddie. Now it was Waylon's turn to roll his eyes.

“Some adult, squatting, starving, and wasting all your money on dildos.”

“Well, when you put it like that.” Eddie managed to look chagrined.

“Let me help you,” said Waylon, closing the pizza box and pushing it to the side so he could reach across toward Eddie. “I want to help you.”

“You can't,” Eddie said simply, shrugging and brushing off Waylon's attempt . “No one can. I'm on my own now, and I just have to make it work. I get breakfast and lunch at school. I have a job enough to cover my phone and food, as long as I don't blow it on hotels and...other things.”

“Cigarettes are expensive. You should stop smoking,” said Waylon, then he shrunk back and pulled his hand back into his lap at the glare that Eddie gave him. “Sorry. I sound like a mom.”

“You sound nothing like my mom,” laughed Eddie. “She chain-smokes worse than my dad. She can't at work because it would make everything she sews stink. I was in charge of cooking when I lived with her, and she complained that everything I cooked tasted like shit. I honestly don't see how she could taste anything. Fork in one hand, cig in the other.”

“Did you like living with her?” Waylon asked.

“Eh,” Eddie shrugged, pulling out his own cigarettes as though their conversation had alerted his body to a craving. He lit the smoke and took a drag before continuing. “My dad always said she was a useless cunt. But I couldn't stay with him anymore after some shit went down, so it was my mom or the street I guess. She has a lot of issues. She blames me for the divorce.”

“That's awful. No child should have to endure that,” said Waylon, frowning. “My parents were always so clear that it was not my fault. Adults have to make decisions for themselves and sometimes...”

“But it was my fault,” Eddie said, staring hard at Waylon from across the table. He took a long drag and exhaled through his nose. “It was absolutely my fault.”

“You shouldn’t tell yourself that, it’s not true,” said Waylon.

“For a smart guy, you’re clueless sometimes,” said Eddie, putting out the last of his smoke in the overflowing ashtray on the table. “I appreciate the meal.”

“I owed you, since I used the motel room, too,” said Waylon, hating the way his ears burned.

Eddie smiled at Waylon across the table and his insides knotted. He stood up and made his way to where Waylon was sitting. He leaned on the table in order to get closer. “Do you want to make out?”

“Really?” asked Waylon. Eddie laughed at the response.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” said Waylon, sitting forward in his seat and closing his eyes. He could barely believe it when Eddie leaned in and kissed him. His hands flew up to grasp the sides of Eddie’s face, returning the kiss. He slowly draped his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. “You changed your mind about kissing?”

Eddie chuckled, kissing Waylon’s cheek while he was still leaned in close. “Only about kissing you, darling.”

Pizza. Cigarettes. Nothing mattered to Waylon except that Eddie was ruffling his hair so softly and pressing their lips together. Even such an innocent kiss ignited Waylon’s insides. There was too much promise behind those smoky, greasy lips—so much potential for something more. All pain and hesitation was forgotten as Waylon began to paw at Eddie’s stained t-shirt and opened his mouth in an invitation to deepen the kiss. Eddie chuckled against his mouth before their actions were interrupted by the sound of keys jingling.

“Shit,” said Eddie under his breath. His eyes immediately snapped to the apartment door. “The window. Out. Now.”

Waylon considered protesting for a moment, but the hard look on Eddie’s face shut down any arguments. Eddie looked serious—and afraid. Similar to how Waylon had seen him staring into the motel room after his nightmare. Waylon nodded and quickly dashed toward the window. It was unlocked but became stuck when he tried to pry it open. After a few tries the window was open enough that Waylon could shove his bag through before shimming after it. He thought about staying behind to watch and listen as he had before, but mother was expecting him—not to mention he needed to study for his exams.

He waited long enough to hear the door open and shut and deep voices talking to Eddie. He scanned the parking lot for any familiar vehicles or people, but there was no one there. He quietly descended the rusty stairs and rushed back to his house.

Mother was glaring down at a stack of papers when he walked through the front doors. Her eyes snapped onto Waylon the second he was through the door.

“Way-way. I have some bad news. It looks like the doctor that was meant to be on call this weekend has to reschedule. I won’t be able to go to Denver with you,” said Mother.

“If you can’t go, I’ll stay behind with you,” said Waylon, giving an easy smile. He actually wanted to stay behind and hopefully spend some time letting off stress with Eddie after exams.

“No. I won’t hear of it. I’ve already purchased your bus ticket and Carol and the boys are expecting you. It’s a treat for you, because I know how hard you’ve been working on your exams. Make sure you get plenty of sleep tonight. I’ll have a full breakfast for you in the morning!”

“Thanks,” mumbled Waylon, sighing as he adjusted his overweight backpack and started up the stairs to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the calm before the storm :)


	13. With You

Waylon asked his teacher for permission to skip homeroom on Tuesday. Usually, he looked forward to the short break where he could chat with Miles while Eddie stared at him from the back row. He knew it was petty and childish to avoid his best friend when they were due a real conversation about what had happened. He should be brave and face his problems head on. Bravery was never one of Waylon’s strong points. He hid in the library like a coward until first period Chemistry.

At lunch time, Waylon took his packed lunch and a text book into the courtyard to eat in privacy. He briefly pondered where Eddie usually ate his lunch since he was never in the cafeteria. He wandered toward an empty bench but stopped short when he heard a loud sniff that caused him to jump out of his skin. He realized he was not alone. He quickly scanned the area and saw a strip of pink visible over the side of a short half wall. Waylon gulped and started to slink back toward the door to the building.

Of course the other person had heard the door open and someone approaching. Claire stood up, leaning heavily on the wall, and stared in the direction of the door. She scrubbed at her face with the back of her hand and sniffed again. Waylon wanted to leave. He had no business being in this area, and no desire to talk to the girl that had caused him such distress over the last weeks.

“Hi,” said Waylon, feeling uneasy as he pushed away from the building and took a step toward Claire. He could not remember having said two words to Claire throughout high school. “Are you okay?”

Claire chuckled to herself, shaking her pink hair. “No. I’m not. But, that’s not your problem.” She sniffed loudly as she leaned heavily against the wall. “Why are you hiding out here?”

“Oh, I was just…avoiding someone,” said Waylon.

“Walker again?” asked Claire.

“No. Well, I would like to avoid him as well, but not this time…”

“Eddie seemed to think that guy has been bullying you,” said Claire. The casual, conversational way she mentioned Eddie talking about Waylon made him feel suddenly warm. His surprise must have shown on his face because Claire chuckled before adding, “I know you’re with Eddie.”

Waylon froze. Had Claire witnessed something that gave them away? Did she see them outside the dance, or at the lockers the previous day? Waylon’s tongue was suddenly too big for his mouth and he failed to make a coherent response.

“It’s good for him, ya know? Not like we were really together.”

“You two…you seem really close,” Waylon said, softly. He took a few steps closer to Claire.

“I guess we are. But we weren’t a couple,” Claire said between sniffles. At least her tears seemed to have stopped, but her nose was still dripping. “You can’t really blame me for wanting him to like me. He’s the only guy who was even remotely nice to me since…since last summer.” Waylon remained quiet, unsure how to respond, and feeling intensely uncomfortable about talking to a stranger about sensitive topics. Claire mistook his silence for complacency. “It’s fine. I know you know. Everyone knows. Claire, the biggest whore in school, right?” She gave a bitter laugh and leaned backwards, arching her back and resting one hand on her small stomach bump. “No one believes me. They think I’m just a whore or something. But Jeremy put something in my drink. I know he did. I blacked out after one vodka cranberry, and that _never_ happens.”

“I’m so sorry…”

“Save it,” said Claire with a huff. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t tell anyone. Too ashamed. I didn’t even remember anything. Jeremy claims I fucked the whole football team—who knows. It sure felt like it the next day. When I missed my periods in the summer I know it was trouble, but I was still too frightened to say anything. Who knows what I would have done if Eddie hadn’t shown up.” Claire paused, rubbing a gentle circle around her stomach. “I didn’t want to have to admit what happened. I didn’t want to have to do a paternity test on the entire fucking football team. Eddie moved to town and we started hanging out at Pyro’s. I was joking about people thinking he was the dad, but he just went with it. Like it was nothing. He just didn’t care if people thought that about him I guess, even when I told him people would probably listen to Jeremy and think I was dirty, easy, and gross…”

“Not everyone thinks that of you,” said Waylon. “I know many suspect the truth. A couple girls I know said the rumors came from Jeremy and no one trusts him…”

“Still. I put myself in that goddamn situation. Trying to be cool, thinking I could date Jeremy Fucking Blaire. Ugh,” Claire shook her pink hair, frowning. She thrust her hand up and jerked on the pink hair. To Waylon’s surprise, it came off revealing short brown hair that had been shaved recently but was growing back fuzzy and short. He stared before remembering that it was probably impolite. Claire rubbed at her fuzzy hair, grinning. “Cute, right? My handiwork after I found out I was preggers. Hence the wig. Either look doesn’t matter. Still a mess.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Waylon.

“My aunt is going to adopt the baby. She can’t have kids and already had one adopted daughter. She’s very happy, and I can be in the baby’s life in some way. I’m not ready to be a mom, and I kinda waited too long to do anything else about it. If the Catholic Church is going to support pro-life and preach forgiveness, they can’t really kick me out of school, can they? I’m due in March.”

“Spring…that’s a nice time to have a birthday. Mine is in February,” said Waylon in an awkward attempt to make conversation.

“Valentine baby,” said Claire, grinning. “You’re kind of sweet. I can see why he likes you.”

“Eddie…he told you about me?”

“Yeah. I told you, we’re close,” said Claire, styling the pink wig with her fingertips. “He didn’t at first I guess, but after the dance he had to come clean. I had already guessed something had happened since he stopped coming to Pyro’s so much. He told me that you’re shy and cute—and you have a real fire crotch.” Claire paused to laugh at the scandalized expression on Waylon’s face. “What? We’re friends.”

“But if you weren’t together, romantically…”

“Nope. He is a friend. The act was for my sake, and I think I took I too far maybe. He was so nice and willing to go along and just, supportive. I guess part of me _wished_ he was he father, even though I knew it was impossible. I’m sorry if it caused you any problems.”

“That’s okay. I…I understand, in a way. Were you crying because he told you about me?”

Claire snorted a laugh and replaced the pink wig on her head, adjusting it as she spoke. “No. That’s Mr. Homecoming King being a dick again. Normally, I would never let anything that shithole says affect me. But I’m a fucking hormonal mess.” The admission seemed to pry fresh tears from the corners of Claire’s eyes which she wiped away with a rough swipe of her sleeve. “I hate it.”

“I always heard that pregnancy makes women glow,” said Waylon.

“Yeah that’s a crock of shit, unless you count profusely sweating as glowing. It’s just been a tough weekend. Eddie left me at the dance, Blaire harassed me. And then the school gives him a crown, like that douchebag needs more undeserved validation. But I can’t be mad I guess—Eddie was spending time with you. Can’t begrudge him being happy, especially considering his terrible situation he’s living with. I hope you don’t hate me.”

“I don’t,” Waylon said quickly, though he couldn’t stop wondering exactly what situation Claire was referencing. Eddie was frequently alone and had very little money. So little he needed Waylon to come by and buy him a pizza dinner. It was a rather unfortunate situation for anyone. “He told me you helped him get into this school. So I actually owe you thanks for that.”

“Aww,” said Claire, slinging her bag over her shoulder as the bell rang to signal the end of lunch period. “He was right. You are cute. Ready to go back inside?” She slid her hand into Waylon’s as she asked, and he could not stop the automatic flush on his cheeks. He managed to nod in response as the two walked, hand in hand, back into the building.

When last period approached, Waylon had no choice but to face his best friend. Miles was already seated in class, drumming his fingers on the desk as he watched Waylon enter the room with the intensity of a hawk tracking a field mouse. Waylon took a deep breath and approached his seat, sitting down as casually as possible.

“Avoiding me?” asked Miles.

“Look, I can explain,” said Waylon, unpacking his textbook and loose paper. He quickly whipped his head around to make sure no one nearby was paying attention. “I’m…kind of…I guess maybe…” He failed to find the words to describe exactly what he was doing with Eddie.

“You can’t just make-out with Eddie Gluskin in front of me and then guess that maybe something is going on!”

“It’s complicated,” muttered Waylon, bringing a hand up to ruffle his red hair. It was suddenly very warm in the classroom. “It’s new. I guess we are dating. I was going to tell you, but it honestly just happened—after the dance.”

“Why did you go to the dance with Lisa if you were dating Eddie Gluskin?” asked Miles, narrowing his eyes.

“Because you asked me to?” said Waylon, giving a half shrug. “I do owe you a lot. You wanted to go with Hope and needed someone for Lisa so I went.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t into her?” asked Miles.

“I wasn’t ready to have this conversation with you. I’m still not sure I am ready to have this conversation,” muttered Waylon. “Look, after exams, we can go out and relax and talk about everything. I already talked to Lisa. She’s upset, but I think she understands. I don’t know if Eddie considers us a couple or not…I hope so, though. And I’m not really comfortable…proclaiming that to the whole school right now. I have enough stuff to deal with. Can we please just, get through these exams? I promise I’ll answer any questions later. We’ll hang out and see a movie or something.”

“Alright,” said Miles. Waylon was surprised that his friend looked more hurt than angry. “You know I won’t think differently of you or treat you any different if you like dudes, right?”

“I know,” said Waylon, despite having doubts in the past. He trusted Miles. “I was going to tell you—as soon as I was ready.”

“I understand. I know how tense you get around exams of any kind—especially midterms. Last thing we need is you getting another disciplinary beating from _Mommie Dearest_ ,” said Miles, emphasizing his derogatory term for Waylon’s mom.

“Thanks Miles,” said Waylon as the teacher stood up and called the class to order. It slowly dawned on Waylon that Eddie was not in class. He never missed economics class. He had no way of knowing if Eddie had been in homeroom that morning since he had not attended. Waylon had trouble focusing during the in class review because he was nervous about Eddie.

As soon as class was excused, Waylon sent a text to Eddie before joining Miles and a group of students that included Hope and Lisa in the library for last minute studying for the exams the following day. Waylon had his chemistry book open in front of him, but he continuously stared at his phone.

“You expecting a call?” asked Miles after Waylon checked his phone for the one hundredth time during their short time studying.

“Oh, sorry, just…waiting on a text,” said Waylon. Miles shrugged and went back to studying. The vibration of Waylon’s phone on the table drew everyone’s immediate attention. “S-sorry.” Waylon apologized again and took his phone with him as he exited the library to avoid disturbing students. He stared down at the screen, frowning.

_Needed a day off._

_Is everything alright?_ Waylon typed back, frowning at the short message. It was not unusual that Eddie’s messages would be short and to the point, but it was unusual that he was not at school. If he had not attended school, had he been able to eat breakfast and lunch that day?

_Miss me?_

Waylon’s frown deepened. Of course Eddie was skipping the review day. He probably did not think it was important to spend an entire day only reviewing what was going to be on the test the following day. He returned to the study group and spent the rest of his evening preparing for the slew of tests he would face the following day.

When Eddie was not in homeroom the following morning, Waylon began to feel genuinely afraid. He tried texting Eddie and reminding him of their midterms that day, but there was no response. His stomach twisted in horrible knots as he sat for his exams. He checked his phone between each class, praying that Eddie had responded. Finding Eddie became more important than acing his exams and Waylon could feel himself struggling to stay focused on his work in his classes. When he saw the empty chair in economics class, he began to suspect the worst. Eddie had been in a horrible accident, contracted a terrible disease, abducted and held for ransom. Each explanation his brain supplied became more troublesome than the last. He was sure that something terrible had happened. He took off immediately from school and jogged to Eddie’s apartment complex. He took the stairs two at a time and rushed to Eddie’s door.

“Eddie!” called Waylon, pounding his fist on the apartment door. He was shocked when the door swung open, unlocked. “Eddie?” Waylon stuck his head inside the door and looked around. The tiny apartment was as dirty as every but there was no sign of Eddie. The pizza box from the previous day was still sitting out on the table. Waylon walked into the apartment and looked around, but it was impossible to tell in the piles of clutter whether anything was out of place. Had Eddie left? There were tons of his clothes on the floor, but maybe he had packed others? Was that broken glass in the kitchen there the day before? It was impossible for Waylon to tell. He started to back out of the apartment, worry threatening to strangle him as he forced himself to remain calm. He pulled out his phone as he stood outside the apartment. He tried calling, but there was no answer. There were no replies to any of his texts that day either.

Waylon felt like he was walking in a thick fog when he arrived at his house. His mother’s conversations seemed muffled and distant. He had to force himself to go upstairs and pack his suitcase for his trip the following day. Could he really go out of town with Eddie missing? He considered calling the police and reporting a missing person. He wished he had Claire’s number—maybe she would know how to find him better than Waylon did, since they were so close. Maybe Miles would be willing to give him a ride to Pyro’s to look for Eddie?

It was impossible to find sleep when he was feeling so worried about Eddie. He was staring at the ceiling when he heard a soft _click_ on the outside of the house. It was followed by another _click_ —and then a loud _ting_ like something hitting the glass of the window in his bedroom. Waylon sat up and frowned at the window. There was another noise and he finally walked over and stared out into the black night. It was the coldest night of the season up to that point, and there was visible frost on the ground. He scanned his backyard until he spotted a figure dressed in black hanging back near the shadow of some large bushes near the fence. Eddie.

Waylon hurried down the stairs, careful not to make a sound. He grabbed the first coat he could reach inside the closet and quickly walked to the backdoor. Waylon held his breath as he turned the lock. He paused, waiting to ensure he had not alerted his mother to his activity. He took a chance and opened the door, rushing out into the yard and closing it quietly behind himself. He cursed when he realized he had forgotten shoes and he could already feel the frigid ground freezing his toes. He tiptoed quickly across the frost kissed ground toward where Eddie was standing in the shadows.

“Eddie! I was looking for you all day. Where have you been?” asked Waylon, his nose already running from the freezing air. He sniffed as he wrapped his arms around himself. Eddie took a step closer and the moonlight slowly lit up his features. Waylon gasps so loudly he threw his hands over his mouth, afraid he might alert his mother all the way from inside the house. “Eddie,” said Waylon, his voice a thick sobbing noise as he stepped closer and held out a cold hand toward Eddie’s face.

The right side of Eddie’s face was so swollen and red his eye was almost completely hidden, and what little Waylon could see was red with burst blood vessels. The cheek under his right eye was split open and actively oozing blood that dripped down his cheek in a sluggish trail. Eddie flinched when Waylon’s cold fingers made soft contact with the bruised flesh of his cheek. Eddie was wearing a long sleeved black shirt and dark blue jeans which offered little protection from the freezing night. Waylon dropped his hand and wrapped his arms around Eddie instead, lending his body heat as he hugged him. Eddie grunted at the contact. “Watch it.”

“What happened? Who did this to you?” asked Waylon, his face against Eddie’s chest as he held him.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Eddie. Waylon stared up at him, forehead creased in confusion. He could not stop staring at the extensive damages done to Eddie’s face. Someone had beat him—worse than Waylon had ever gotten in his life. He felt guilty for feeling sorry for himself from his mother’s punishments when Eddie could stand so calmly while bleeding from several gashes and a split lip.

“Let’s go to a hospital,” said Waylon, reaching for Eddie’s hand. He frowned when Eddie pulled his hands away and crossed his arms, tucking his hands under his arms.

“No,” said Eddie. When he opened his mouth to speak, Waylon could see blood dripping from the gash on his lip and coating his teeth. “I can’t go to a hospital. What can I tell them?”

“You tell them the truth, Eddie. Who are you protecting! It wasn’t Walker was it?” asked Waylon. The glare Eddie gave him was so severe he felt his throat swell with fear.

“I’m not protecting anyone,” said Eddie, his voice coming out as an angry growl. “I would never protect that piece of shit. I’ve tried getting help from the authorities before—the ‘good guys.’ It made it worse. It made it so much fucking worse. Look, I’m leaving. I’ve already arranged some business in the morning and after that, I am leaving this town.”

“No! You can’t please, no,” said Waylon, shaking his head as tears coated his lashes.

“I want you to come with me,” said Eddie. Waylon stared wide eyed as though he had misheard. “Come with me,” he repeated, his usual commanding tone returning.

“Wait, you’re…running away? Like, running away from home?”

“Don’t make it sound so dramatic,” said Eddie before spitting a mouthful of blood onto the frosted ground. “I’m eighteen. I’m leaving this shithole. I would hardly consider it a home.”

“You have no cash!”

“Like I said, I have something coming in the morning. Enough to keep me fed and moving for a while. Get as much cash as you can and come with me. Say you’ll come with me.” Eddie paused and reached out to place his hands on Waylon’s waist. He pulled him close and pressed his bruised forehead down onto Waylon’s head, burying his nose in red locks. “Come with me.”

“Yes,” said Waylon, so softly at first he doubted for a moment that the noise had even come from him. “Yes,” he said louder. He barely registered when Eddie kissed his hair—his brain was already rushing ahead, calculating, budgeting, projecting, planning. “I'll go with you. I can withdraw from my savings in the morning. But my Mother was expecting me back after the fall break on Sunday. Will we be going back?”

“Doubtful,” Eddie said, looking away and refusing to meet Waylon's eyes. The wind picked up as they shared several silent moments. “Does that change things?”

“No,” said Waylon, reaching out to place his hand within Eddie’s frozen palm. “I'm with you.”


	14. Blood and Tears

The next morning, Waylon began to add new pieces of clothing to his packed suitcase before Mother came upstairs and caught him in the act.

“Way-Way, you do realize this is only for a few days! You are packing as though you're leaving for weeks! Aunt Carol will think you mean to move in,” said Mother, unpacking some of the extra shirts and pants Waylon had attempted to pack.

“Sorry. I'm no good at packing. Better safe than sorry,” said Waylon. He made sure to be wearing as many layers as possible and he packed a warm flannel blanket. “It's for the bus. I get cold easily,” he explained to his mother.

Mother cried when she dropped Waylon off at the bus station. “I'm so sorry I could not go this year. I know I say that every year that I can’t go, but I always mean it. I hope you have fun with Aunt Carol and your cousins. Be safe. Call me when you get there. I love you, Way-Way!”

“I love you too, Mother,” said Waylon, hugging his mother tight. She was not perfect, but she was his mother. She would probably never understand why he had run away with a boy from school. Would she care that he was homosexual? He had feared she might, but, in that moment, it felt like he was not even giving her a chance. She was going to be so disappointed, and Waylon’s skin ached thinking about what happened when his mother was disappointed. It was just past nine when she finally pulled away, leaving Waylon and his luggage at the bus station.

He scanned the area and saw a tall man wearing a black beanie, dark glasses, and a neck warmer pulled over the bottom half of his face. Waylon approached cautiously. “Eddie?” he asked, on a hunch.

Eddie tilted the black sunglasses down and Waylon could tell, even with his horribly swollen face, that he was smiling behind the neck-warmer. “You came.”

“Of course I came. We planned it all out last night, and you thought I wouldn’t show?” asked Waylon. Eddie had replaced the sunglasses and his expression was impossible to read. Waylon looked around for an ATM. “I need to withdraw as much cash as I can. I pulled everything I had in my safe, plus my mother gave me some spending cash for the trip. I am allowed to take out two hundred a day but she can probably use that to track me.”

“Pyro helped me out,” Eddie explained. “That douchebag Jeremy Blaire is always begging me to help him out with supplies. So I finally came through for him—there was a considerable up-charge of course. I split the bounty with Pyro and now we’re both laughing at Jeremy’s ignorance. I already got a ticket, like you said. Ten o’clock right?”

“Yeah. And you bought some warmer clothes, I see,” said Waylon.

Eddie snorted. “No, I did not. I used my key to get into the locker room and took anything I could find that fit,” said Eddie, chuckling at his own genius.

“That...actually probably explains why you smell like a jock-strap,” Waylon said, grinning.

“Nope. Just my natural musk,” said Eddie. Waylon found it frustrating that he was unable to read Eddie’s facial expressions.

Waylon pushed his suitcase close to Eddie and looked around until he found an ATM in the corner. “I'll be right back,” he said, wandering over to the machine and taking out the largest amount he could withdraw. He returned to sit beside Eddie in the bus station as they waited for the ten o'clock to Denver to be announced. Waylon pulled out his cell and made a phone call.

“Hello,” Waylon said, making his voice very nasal, “Aunt Carol? Hi Aunt Carol. It's Waylon...That's why I was calling actually,” an exaggerated sneeze into the phone, “I've come down with a terrible cold and a fever. I think it's the flu. Possibly the bird flu. I am not gonna to be able to come down after all...I know...I know...Of course, tell the guys I said hi,” another overly dramatic sneeze, “of course Aunt Carol. Talk to you soon.”

Eddie’s dark glasses stared throughout the one-sided conversation. After Waylon hung up, he tilted the shades down and raised his eyebrows.

“What?” Waylon asked when he had put away his cell-phone.

“You're a terrible actor.”

Waylon frowned at Eddie’s covered face. “Mother thinks I'm with Aunt Carol in Denver. Aunt Carol thinks I stayed home. Mother is too busy with work to even think about me,” said Waylon.

“So you don't think anyone will come looking for you?” Eddie asked.

“Probably not. At least not for a while,” Waylon said.

“No one will definitely be looking for me,” said Eddie. A stint of silence fell between them before he continued. “If I went missing, would _you_ look for me?” Eddie asked.

“WHAT,” yelled Waylon, his brown eyes going wide with fright. “What kind of question is that?!? OF COURSE I would go looking for you. Yesterday I even went to your house, I was panicked…”

Eddie laughed out loud, letting his head drop back against the bus station wall as he did. Waylon glared at him. “Immediate response,” said Eddie. “You really are in love with me.”

Waylon did not give an answer, frowning and staring down at his hands on his knees. The bus station was busy and no one really paid attention to them sitting there, even with Eddie dressed like some kind of cat-burglar. “What happened to you, Eddie? Who hurt you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Eddie. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands. “I didn’t sleep last night. Tired. I’m really not in the mood.”

An announcement over the speaker called for first boarding of the ten o’clock bus to Denver. Eddie walked out the door to the bus with his hands in his pockets and his face completely covered. Waylon was behind him, dragging his heavy suitcase by himself. He struggled to get the heavy bag to the worker who then loaded it under the bus. He walked onto the bus and sat down next to Eddie. He stared up at the sign announcing they were heading to Denver and began to feel a strange panic. Was he really going to run away from home? He’d never done anything this severe in his life. He felt afraid. In the seat beside him, Eddie sunk lower to get comfortable and soon his beanie-covered head was resting against Waylon’s shoulder. Waylon sat up straighter, afraid to move, sensitive to the feeling of Eddie beside him—his weight, and warmth. Against all odds, his fear and nervousness seemed to evaporate. By the time the bus was moving, Eddie’s breathing was steady and soft beside him, and Waylon felt happy.

The bus ride was just over two hours and Eddie was extremely groggy when they finally arrived in Denver. Waylon made a quick call to his mother and was not surprised when he reached her voice-mail. He left a short message that he had arrived safely and that everything was fine. The two boys began a long, cold trek through Denver in search of a cheap motel. Eddie walked with his hands in his pockets while Waylon was forced to drag his suitcase. They stopped at the first few places and continued walking, hoping to find something cheaper. They eventually reached a run down motel with rates under fifty dollars a night. It was a good place to start, and Waylon was not sure he could continue walking with his giant luggage. Eddie checked them in and they retired to their room.

It was bitterly cold in the tiny room. Eddie attempted to get the space heater working and Waylon pulled out a notebook where he immediately began writing in the cost of the motel. “How much money exactly do you have?” asked Waylon.

“I don’t know, why?” asked Eddie.

“I’m trying to keep track. We have to be careful while we don’t have any income, and spend our money carefully,” said Waylon, flipping to the front of the notebook and pointing at several hand written bullet points he had made the previous evening during his planning for their trip. “We will need to find jobs. We can probably take the graduation equivalency test once we find a place to rent. We might need to find extended stay hotels for a while since we won’t really have the money for a down payment and we definitely don’t have any credit and no one to cosign on a lease. Maybe we could ask around and look to find a roommate that might take cash while we get on our feet? You know there are also places that help people like us, teens with nowhere to go. They might be obligated to inform my mother on me though since I am not eighteen yet and technically a minor…”

“You’re really doing this, huh?” said Eddie, laying down on top of the bed next to Waylon.

“I told you. I’m with you,” said Waylon. He watched quietly as Eddie began to remove the dark glasses, beanie, and neck warmer hiding his gruesome facial injuries. They had been shining and red the previous evening, but that day they were much more purple and the gash on his cheek was not bleeding but remained open and shiny. The red filling the whites of his eyes was most disconcerting. “What happened? Are you ever going to tell me?”

Eddie shook his head and attempted to pull Waylon closer to him on the bed, though Waylon clung to his notebook and refused to budge. Eddie curled his body against where Waylon was sitting. “It’s still cold in here,” he muttered against Waylon’s hair. “Warm me up.”

“In another minute, I just need to calculate how long we can stay in this hotel at this rate if we aren’t able to leave, and then…”

“You’re always thinking. It’s annoying,” said Eddie, propping himself up on one elbow. “I hate the you that’s thinking right now. I want you to have no room left in your head for thoughts other than me.” Waylon frowned, closing the notebook and flashing hurt brown eyes down at Eddie. The tense moment was interrupted by a strange sound.

“Oh…oh…” the noise was coming from the other side of the wall—just like the banging noise. Waylon was staring confused at the noise when Eddie woke up. He quickly started laughing at Waylon’s bewildered expression.

“She’s faking it,” said Eddie. Waylon was about to ask what he meant when it dawned on him…

“Oh oh…give it to me daddy…yeah, that feels good, right there, keep going, don’t stop…that’s it, give it to me…”

Waylon’s face was flushed and the room suddenly felt much hotter. He blushed even deeper when he noticed Eddie smirking at him. “Such an innocent response,” he said, sliding his hands until he could cup Waylon’s crotch through his many layers of clothing. Waylon attempted to pry his hand away.

“Eddie, no, it’s too weird. Isn’t it?” asked Waylon, still blushing as the woman on the other side of the thin wall continued her rhythmic ‘oh oh oh’ like some kind of dirty Santa.

“This is a cheap motel. It's expected that people would use it for sex,” said Eddie, still grinning at Waylon's shy reaction. “We plan on using it for sex. Lots of sex.” Waylon's mouth hung open in shock and Eddie just chuckled. He pulled Waylon down, close to him, and leaned in to drag his tongue along the smaller boy's neck. “In fact, I think our sex would put theirs to shame. Her fake moaning compared to your honest tears. We should let them hear,” Eddie suggested, grinning against the skin of Waylon's throat. He pulled away for a moment and Waylon could hear him reaching for his own small bag of belongings where he had likely packed away supplies for such an occasion.

The combination of the rhythmic pounding against the wall and the thudding of his heart almost drowned out Eddie's words. He watched as Eddie began to take off his clothes. The stolen sweatshirt and his own jeans were discarded and Waylon could not stop staring at the glory that was Eddie's bare physique. The marks on his face were the worst of it, though his chest showed several bruises around his ribs and there was a purple band-like bruise around a wrist. The healing wounds and bruises did nothing to lessen his appeal in Waylon's eyes. He only wanted to please him in that moment. Eddie slid out of his boxers and grabbed Waylon's hips. “Strip.”

Waylon jumped as though his clothes had suddenly become offensive to him. He tore away his sweatshirt and shimmied out of his jeans. Eddie took care of the last part, sliding his underwear down his legs and tossing them onto the floor. Waylon reached out his arms in an attempt to pull Eddie into a kiss, but he was promptly ignored as Eddie grabbed his hips and flipped him onto his stomach.

“Considering how badly she's faking it, there can't be much longer. Sorry, darling, but the adjustment period is significantly shorter today,” Eddie said, dumping lube onto his hand. Waylon felt Eddie crawl across the bed on his knees until his groin was flush against Waylon's ass. “Tell me you want it.”

“Want…want you,” said Waylon, though he was panicking internally. He feared the pain if they did not follow the normal preparations. He attempted to roll over to choose a better position where he could look up at Eddie’s face while they made love. His attempt was stopped by a firm grip to his hips.

“I know you do, slut,” growled Eddie before spearing Waylon. The discomfort was sharp and immediate. The lube helped slightly, but Waylon could feel himself stretch and tear as Eddie parted his insides. Waylon cried out and dug his fingers into the sheets. The moaning next door paused momentarily.

“Shh, we're going to get in trouble...” said Waylon, whimpering and attempting to pull away from Eddie’s rough treatment.

“For what,” asked Eddie, leaning forward to drape himself over Waylon's back. “For having sex? That's not a crime. For being loud? They're the ones disturbing us first. Relax.” Eddie slid his large hands underneath Waylon and caressed up and down his body slowly. “I want to move and you are really tensing up on me...it feels fucking amazing. But I want to fuck you into the wall right now. So relax.” A strong hand slid around Waylon’s waist and worked its way lower. Eddie took Waylon in hand while holding himself buried as deep as possible. The touch of those fingers had Waylon pushing his hips backwards against Eddie, further impaling himself as he moaned loudly.

“You always react so much when I’m touching you,” said Eddie, his fingers spreading the liquid dripping down Waylon’s shaft. “Are you really this easy?”

“You,” Waylon stuttered, wishing he weren’t supporting himself on his arms so he could look up at his lover. “Only you, Eddie.”

“Oh daddy, give it to me, harder, please, just like that…” The woman on the other side of the wall continued her noises though her excitement seemed to be decreasing rather than increasing. Waylon wondered if she was enjoying herself at all—or perhaps she was working. A quick thrust stole his thoughts back to Eddie.

“I’m this deep inside of you,” said Eddie, his voice sounding tight. “I’m the only person to ever know you like this. Tell me.”

“Only you, Eddie,” Waylon repeated, staring down at the motel mattress. The banging from the other side of the wall resumed and Eddie responded by increasing the power behind his thrusts. There was a loud squelching sound as their skin slapped together with each meeting. The rough treatment had Waylon moaning and bracing himself against against the headboard. After a particularly enthusiastic thrust, the cheap plywood headboard smacked loudly against the motel wall.

“All mine,” said Eddie between grunts. There was no pause in his violent movements and Waylon had to bury his head in a thin motel pillow to muffle the loud cries that came unbidden from the painful treatment. “Don’t do that,” said Eddie, fingers tangling in Waylon’s red hair and pulling roughly until his head was forced back at an awkward angle. The painful tugging combined with Eddie’s unrelenting hips had a string of loud moans leaving Waylon’s mouth as it hung open.

The slamming of the headboard against the wall intensified as Waylon felt his muscles growing weak and he relied more on the assistance of the bed frame to keep himself upright. Eddie finally released his hair and Waylon’s head lolled as he fought to stay upright. Eventually he faltered and felt his forehead slam into the wall along with the headboard. “Ow!! Eddie…” said Waylon, trying hard to talk through his own panting. “Watch out, please.”

The answer was a loud, stinging slap to his ass that made Waylon cry out and attempt to jump away from Eddie only to find himself once against hitting the wall with bruising force. Somewhere in his mind he remembered kisses and soft touches. His head hit the wall so hard he felt his front teeth bite down on his lip and a burst of copper filled his mouth. Waylon moaned his complaints and dropped his arms, his ass pushing further into the air as his chest hit the bed. He could feel his member softening from the pain and mistreatment.

“Eddie,” Waylon pleaded, but the answer was bruising fingers on his hips and Eddie laughing along with the steady slap of the headboard against the wall. On the other side of the wall, someone slapped a palm against the wall several times and screamed something that was drowned out by Waylon’s pained moans . “Please, I can’t…”

“You can, and you will,” said Eddie through his own labored breaths. Waylon squeezed his eyes shut, unable to stop the sobs from wracking his body though he muffled the noise in the pillow. When he pulled up to breathe he saw the fabric streaked with blood and tears. It felt like an eternity before Eddie speared deep into his core and sent a burst of liquid heat to coat Waylon’s abused insides. The satisfied groan proceeded Eddie’s withdrawal and Waylon collapsed on the bed, motionless. There was no more sobbing, but the tears continued to fall, fat and silent.

There was no more noise from beyond the wall. The only noise in their dim motel room was Eddie’s breathing as he recovered. The quiet and lack of movement from Waylon seemed to finally register with Eddie. He stood up and walked into the tiny adjacent bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Waylon flinched at the sound, not bothering to wipe the large tears dislodged when he flinched. He forced himself up into a sitting position and leaned against the headboard, staring at the cheap motel sheets with a dazed expression on his face. Whether he sat there for minutes or hours he could not say but when the door opened Eddie’s form was silhouetted in the doorway and he stared at Waylon with a look he had seen before—the day after their first kiss.

Waylon dropped his gaze back down to his lap where his hands were resting, idly toying with the sheets. Eddie walked to the bed and sat down slowly, his weight dipping the bed slightly as he adjusted until he was sitting right next to Waylon. He gently reached out and took Waylon’s chin in his hands, turning his head until Waylon finally had no choice but to meet his eyes. He released Waylon’s chin and licked his own thumb. Eddie wiped his moist thumb across Waylon’s chin, smudging away the blood left behind from his lip. Eddie’s serious blue eyes met Waylon’s before he leaned forward. His lips were warm as they pressed against Waylon’s split lip.

“I’ve done terrible things to you,” said Eddie, a hand coming up to card gently through Waylon’s hair. “But you don’t leave.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” said Waylon, frowning. “I came this far, I’m not turning back.”

“But you deserve to know some things,” said Eddie, his voice barely above a whisper. “You can still turn back. I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Nothing you could say would make me turn back,” said Waylon, lifting his chin. “If someone’s hurting you, I want to know. I want to protect you.” The sentiment made Eddie laugh though it was a joyless sound,—hollow and sad.

“Then you’re even dumber than I thought,” said Eddie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got too long and became two, but now reading back over it, feels incomplete, so sorry about that, answers coming, i promises


	15. Different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unhappy situations dealing with Eddie's past. Sorry about that.

Eddie sat on the bed with his back on the headboard and his head against the wall. He motioned for Waylon to join him. Waylon curled up next to Eddie, leaning his back against Eddie’s chest and smiling when warm arms wrapped around him, holding him close. Their nudity did not seem to matter in their tiny world that consisted only of them and their slowly warming motel room.

“Who hurt you?” asked Waylon, his body moving slightly with the steady rise and fall of Eddie’s chest as he breathed.

“You’re sure you want to know this shit?” asked Eddie. Waylon frowned where Eddie could not see, unsure how to proceed without upsetting him. Waylon nodded his head without turning around, determined to let Eddie explain at his own pace. “My dad’s brother. I don’t consider him any kind of family to me. I’ve been avoiding him since I came back to town. It wasn’t hard, he drives a truck for a living so he’s usually out of town—like my dad. I knew he was sniffing around the apartment so I took off.”

“You missed your exams,” said Waylon. Eddie barked laughter next to his ear.

“You think that’s the worst part of this?” asked Eddie, one of his hands moving to stroke Waylon’s arm affectionately. “You’re so sheltered, darling.”

“I didn’t mean it like that…”

“I know you didn’t,” Eddie said, leaning his head against Waylon’s. “You can’t help that you were born into a good family that cares about you and your education.” Waylon stayed quiet at the sentiment.

“Where have you been? I looked for you,” said Waylon.

“Around. Making myself scarce. Hanging out in warm public places when I could, napping at the library. My dad’s brother knew where I went to school so I had to avoid it. Old tricks I picked up back in middle school,” said Eddie.

“He used to hurt you in middle school, when I knew you before?” asked Waylon.

“He’s been abusing me since before I can remember. It started so long ago I don’t even remember the first time. It was normal for me. I didn’t know how wrong it was, and I did not tell anyone. I only knew that it hurt.”

“Your parents didn’t stop him?” asked Waylon, glad Eddie couldn’t see the pained expression on his freckled face.

“They were busy with their jobs—he was my primary caretaker most days. And he didn’t always touch me with his fists. His abuse didn’t leave the visible kind of marks,” said Eddie. Waylon’s mind was racing as he processed the information. There were many types of abuse, he knew. “The kissing was the worst. Having to kiss him, when I was completely disgusted by him. The worst of the pain and humiliation was not as bad as having that fucker’s tongue in my mouth.” Waylon felt the shiver that wracked Eddie’s body at the memory and his frown deepened. “When I was a kid, he made it like a sick game. Pick up the soap. Using different toys. Dressing me up. Seeing how well I could follow directions like some kind of twisted Simon Says game.” Waylon’s heart stopped at the description, finding it too familiar.

“Is that why you left?” he asked eventually.

“In sixth grade, you mean? Yeah. That was part of it,” said Eddie, taking a deep breath and letting it out before continuing. “My dad’s brother was doing sick shit with me since I was too young to remember. In middle school, I finally started to fight back. I just had enough. So I told my mother about what he had been doing to me.”

“Did he get arrested?”

“Nah,” said Eddie. “My mom believed me—but my dad didn’t. Said I was a bad kid. I made bad grades, I was always staying out away from home. He claimed I was acting out for attention. So after some humiliating examinations and questioning by the authorities, my dad told me to drop it. Said I was tearing the family apart. My abuser threatened to tell everyone I liked it, and leak photographs he’d taken. I was scared so I changed my story. Claimed I made it up.”

“That’s horrible. You were just a kid, the authorities should have listened to you. Those behaviors indicate something wrong at home, not that you’re a bad kid,” said Waylon.

“Don’t bother getting indignant about it, it’s in the past,” said Eddie. “My dad divorced my mom for siding against his brother. Told her to get the fuck out and take me with her. So we left. I tried to explain the situation, but she didn’t want to hear it anymore. She blamed me for her divorce. She left me alone most of the time, working, dating, whatever she did. When she got remarried, she told me to go back to my dad’s. So here I am.”

“You’re usually alone at the apartment, though,” said Waylon.

“Well, he’s always out driving. That was the worst part, I think. Being ignored. It didn’t matter if I trashed the apartment, smoked cigarettes, sold drugs, knocked up a girl—no one in my family cares if I live or die,” said Eddie. It was chilling how calmly he could discuss his family’s complete abandonment.

“I talked to Claire, recently,” said Waylon. “She said you offered to claim her baby to help her save face.”

“Yeah, well,” said Eddie, sighing. He pushed on Waylon until he sat up slightly, allowing Eddie to slip out from between him and the wall. He immediately missed the warmth of Eddie at his back. Waylon pulled the thin comforter over his lap as he watched Eddie rifle through his belongings for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit up and took a couple of long drags before resuming his story. “When I first got to town it was the beginning of summer and I didn’t remember many people.”

“You recognized me,” said Waylon.

“Yeah, well, you stand out in my memory,” said Eddie, chuckling as he puffed on his cigarette. “I liked your red hair. And you used to stare at me.” Waylon blushed bright red and averted his eyes. “Ha, so guilty.” Eddie chuckled as he flicked a large piece of ash into a motel cup. “I didn’t give a shit what I was selling, and some guy was asking for Rohypnal, Pyro knew a guy, I hooked it up.” Eddie extinguished the end of his cigarette, blowing smoke out as he exhaled. “I sold Jeremy the drugs he used on Claire. She doesn’t know. We became friends after that. Broken people are drawn to one another I guess. I felt guilty and didn’t care if my dad thought I knocked up a girl, so I let the rumor stand. I could tell she liked me though. I broke it to her after the dance, before you and I left. That I was dating someone else, and it was a boy. You.”

“We’re together now,” said Waylon, nodding as Eddie crawled back on the bed and over to where he was lying under the covers. Eddie stretched out and rested his head in Waylon’s lap. “If anyone tries to hurt you again, they have to go through me.” Waylon carded his fingers through Eddie’s unruly stripe of black hair, scratching his scalp lightly.

“You don’t want to go back home, now that you know how broken I am?” asked Eddie.

“You’re not broken. I’m not perfect either. All that studying, and I’m not even going to college. We can make it together. We will need to take that equivalency test, get some jobs, find a place to live, and it’s okay if you need to talk to someone about everything you’ve had to been through…”

“You’re so serious about this,” said Eddie, sounding more groggy as he lie there letting Waylon pet him.

“I am very serious about you,” said Waylon, nodding. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” Waylon’s hand paused as he thought for a moment. “You’re tired. We will rest here for a few days, we can afford it. Get some rest, and we’ll get some food later.” A grunt was Eddie’s only reply. Waylon readjusted himself until he was facing Eddie on the bed and they both drifted off.

The next morning, Waylon woke up to his stomach protesting. They had not eaten since they arrived in Denver. He gently woke Eddie and the pair set off to find a cheap restaurant that served breakfast. Waylon led the way with Eddie following closely, a trail of smoke in his wake. It was a chilly late fall day and the wind was biting as it tore through the urban environment. They walked along dirty sidewalks in between tall buildings.

“Come on,” said Waylon, spotting a greasy diner and quickly crossing the street, “we can split breakfast to conserve our cash.”

Eddie frowned as they approached the door. “I’m not worried about cash. I’m more worried about people staring. I would feel more comfortable picking something up and bringing it back to the motel,” said Eddie.

“No one will stare at us,” said Waylon.

“I don’t think you’re prepared for how they’re going to look at us,” said Eddie, dropping his cigarette on the ground and stomping it with his boot.

“You mean, because we’re gay?” Waylon asked.

Eddie glared at Waylon. “You’re gay. You don’t speak for me. And that’s not even what I meant. They’re going to look at us like we’re poor, pathetic charity cases.”

Waylon’s forehead wrinkled as he considered the statement. They reached the door of the diner and Waylon studied their reflection in the glass. Eddie’s injuries were still substantial and without his covering clothing they were impossible to miss. Waylon’s own lip was swollen and split from their sexual fiasco the day before. “Who cares what they think, anyways?”

“I don’t care,” said Eddie, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’m just tired of it. All my life that’s the look I get. Poor kid. No coat. Ragged clothes. Food stamps. I’m fucking sick of people giving me sad looks. I don’t want to be pathetic anymore—I wanted to make a new start. Trust me, if we walk in this diner and order one breakfast to two, someone’s gonna fucking say something. And I’ll die a little more inside.”

“Don’t say that Eddie,” said Waylon, putting his arm through Eddie’s while his hands remained pocketed. “We are making a new start. You and me. This is our first real meal together since we took off. Let’s make it a good one. A new tradition—just for us.”

Eddie stared at the reflection in the window, not acknowledging anything Waylon had said, but not withdrawing from his touch, either. Waylon gently tugged Eddie’s arm and took the lead, holding the door open as they walked into the diner.

“Hello,” said Waylon, smiling as he approached the hostess stand. Eddie stayed back, a gloomy expression on his battered face. “Table for two please. Do you have any breakfast specials?”

“Wha…why of course, sweetheart,” said the hostess smiling with rows of crooked teeth. Her blue eyes turned down at the edges as she frowned, shaking her head as she examined Eddie and Waylon. “We serve breakfast all day. You can get the works for just seven dollars and ninety nine cents.” Waylon pursed his lips, considering the information before answering.

“Okay, we will take one order of the breakfast special. To go,” said Waylon. It was a good price for that much food, but Waylon knew they needed to make their cash last until they were settled in better. If it meant eating less, he could eat less. Waylon brought out an envelope and began carefully counting out bills and coins for correct change. The hostess took one look at the poor kid counting change and gave a sympathetic look before wandering into the kitchen. She returned a couple minutes later with two Styrofoam containers.

“Here you are, sweeties,” said the hostess. “On the house. You boys take care of yourselves, alright?”

Eddie gave a bitter laugh from behind Waylon. He stepped in front of Waylon, putting his impressive injuries on display for the woman. “I changed my mind. We’ll eat here. Since it’s on the house, can we get a couple of coffees and waters to drink as well? Thanks.” Eddie grabbed the containers and stalked to a table near a smudged window. Waylon joined him, frowning.

“What’s your problem?” asked Waylon, glaring. “She was being nice.”

“I don’t need people to help me out,” said Eddie.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, you fucking do. That’s not a crime, Eddie Gluskin,” muttered Waylon. He grabbed one of the containers and pulled it toward himself, opening it to reveal steaming eggs, hash-browns, bacon, sausage, and even a couple of pancakes. “Asking for things does not make you weak. It makes you smart. I’m thankful some lady in a cheap diner gave us a free breakfast, because I am starving and it helps us save for our future. I’m sorry you feel like you can’t ask for help because, in case you haven’t realized it yet, I am helping you. I _want_ to help you. And I don’t care if you like it or not.”

Eddie stared at the window, but it was too smudged to see anything past their own reflection. His face was locked in a look of disgust that seemed painful considering all his facial contusions. “You’ve gotten a lot more talkative since we left town.”

Eddie froze, mid-bite, with a forkful of eggs hanging in front of his open mouth. “S-sorry,” said Waylon before shoving the fork into his mouth and chewing quietly.

“No. It’s…it’s kind of nice,” said Eddie before opening his own container and digging in. A waitress brought them coffee, and she kept refilling their cups as they sat for hours, talking.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Waylon asked, at one point.

“Secure,” said Eddie, without hesitation. “I just want a job I know I won’t lose, and savings I know will keep a roof over my head, and food in my kitchen. I don’t want to rely on anyone ever again. How about you?”

Waylon hummed to himself, surprised that Eddie had such a mature answer. Saying ‘something with computers’ suddenly did not seem like enough. Waylon sipped slowly at his warm coffee as he considered what he really wanted to be when he grew up. “Loved,” he answered, finally, staring hard at the table. Eddie made a noise to signal he had heard, and made no further comment on the subject.

They talked about music, books, hobbies, and stupid shit they’d seen on the Internet. Eddie talked about sewing and missing the theater’s play coming up before Christmas. Waylon talked about leaving Miles high and dry with the yearbook, and how he should have been mailing off his revised Berkeley application. They talked about the future, and all the things they could do now that they were free.

When it was finally getting late, they packed up and left the diner, heaving back to the motel. Waylon started to put down a tip, but Eddie shook his head and gave a jerk of his chin in the direction of the hostess stand where the hostess was sitting on a stool staring at a book of crossword puzzles.

Eddie walked up to the woman with Waylon behind him. He held out his hand, and the woman looked confused, holding out her hand that was holding the pen she was using to complete the puzzles. Eddie brought her hands to his lips and kissed it. “Thank you so much. You are a true angel. We were blessed to have run into you today.”

The woman’s lips were quivering, as though she were fighting back tears. “Oh, you darlings are so welcome,” she finally managed, though her voice was tremulous. Eddie held up his phone with a charming smile.

“Could we please bother you, one last time, for a picture? We would like to remember your kindness for years to come.” The woman was beaming when Eddie and Waylon crowded her for a picture on Eddie’s outdated phone.

By the time they left, the hostess was dabbing her eyes, and Eddie looked a little less angry. Waylon was whistling in the cold as they made their way back to the motel. Waylon walked into the room and turned around after the door shut behind Eddie. “I don’t know what that was all about, but I think I just fell for you all over again,” he said before pulling Eddie’s neck down for a kiss, their lips cold and chapped from the walk.

“Show me then,” Eddie said when their lips broke apart.

Waylon initiated another kiss, hands grasping at the shaved sides of Eddie’s hair. His tongue pried at swollen lips until Eddie grunted from the pressure on his tender wounds. The noise gave Waylon the opening he needed to slip his tongue inside. Eddie was patient and still, allowing Waylon to lead. Waylon had no intention of letting the opportunity pass. He began to unzip Eddie’s jacket, and paw at the layers of clothing underneath.

Eddie helped, shrugging out of his jacket and removing his sweatshirt until he was standing only in a thermal undershirt. The kissing finally ended when Waylon sank to his knees in front of Eddie. Slender fingers wasted no time unzipping Eddie’s jeans, and freeing his erection, already rock hard.

Waylon held onto the base of Eddie’s shaft, and directed the tip toward his mouth. He canted his eyes up and met Eddie’s dilated blue stare, watching him carefully. Waylon held the gaze as he teased his tongue up and down Eddie’s shaft. Eddie groaned and pushed his hips toward Waylon’s mouth, his usual reserve gone. Waylon kissed the tip, smiling wickedly at Eddie’s obvious desire. Being in control was thrilling. No wonder Eddie liked it so much.

Slowly, Waylon engulfed Eddie’s entire length as deep as possible into his throat. His tongue laved the velvety heat while bobbing his head slowly, sucking hungrily. “Fuck, darling,” said Eddie with a loud moan. “I had no idea you enjoyed sucking cock so much. Filthy slut.”

Waylon moaned around Eddie. His words fanned a fire deep inside Waylon’s core, making his many layers of clothing extremely uncomfortable. Waylon could feel himself leaking, creating a wet spot on his briefs. Waylon continued to stroke and lick until he could take it no longer.

Standing up, Waylon began to remove his own clothes. Eddie watched, his eyes dilated with lust. “Needed to strip, darling?”

“Let me ride you,” said Waylon once he was shirtless in the cool room. His internal heat made him feel comfortable despite showing so much skin.

“Don’t I always give you what you want?”

“Yes,” said Waylon, whimpering as he struggled to remove his pants, thermals, and briefs. Eddie slowly backed up to the bed, pulling the rest of his clothing off until he was bare. He laid back slowly, watching carefully as Waylon crawled onto the bed and straddled his hips, naked.

“You look so good,” said Eddie, lightly teasing his fingers through Waylon’s red pubic hair. “You used to be so shy. I think I like you better this way.”

“You made me this way,” said Waylon, breathing heavily as he grabbed the lubrication from the bedside table. He dropped it onto Eddie’s cock before pumping his fist up and down, coating the entire length. After a quick hip adjustment, Waylon was guiding Eddie inside. Both groaned as their hips finally met, signaling that Eddie was buried to the hilt. “You’re lucky I only climbed on your dick. I considered sitting on your face.”

“Wha…” Eddie gasped, “darling, you’re a sin. You want that, really? Me to tongue your hole? I bet you do.”

Waylon moaned and arched his back as he rocked his hips. He put his hands on Eddie’s chest for leverage as he moved, dragging his ass up and down Eddie’s length. He was sore from the previous evening, but from that position, Waylon could control the depth and angle. He experimented until he found what best suited his needs.

“You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you? Even while I’m this deep inside of you,” said Eddie, grasping Waylon’s hips for effect. He gasped each time his cock grazed Eddie’s stomach as he squirmed on Eddie’s lap. Waylon found his rhythm, and the perfect angle that made Eddie bite his lip and buck his hips up from the bed. It was empowering, watching how he could affect Eddie. There were no commands, or games—they only communicated with nonverbal cues and unbidden moans. Waylon hunched his back as he leaned down to kiss Eddie, hips rolling instinctively as their lips and tongues connected.

When Eddie worked a hand between their bodies to tease swollen flesh, Waylon was immediately lost. He writhed and moaned, hips thrusting into Eddie’s fist, causing his ass to slide up and down on Eddie in the process. They were both covered in sweat despite the cool room, and soon Waylon coated them both with his seed. There was no complaints from Eddie as his hands reached down and gripped Waylon’s fleshy cheeks, pulling them apart as he began a ruthless upwards motion, spearing Waylon repeatedly. He watched Waylon bounce on his lap even as he was trying to recover from his own release. It did not take long for Eddie’s come to flood Waylon to overflowing, before he collapsed on top of Eddie.

It seemed like an age as Waylon lie panting on top of Eddie, both slowly regaining control over their breathing. Eddie brought up a hand and lazily traced circles on Waylon’s back.

“Why not money?” asked Waylon, breaking the warm silence of the room. Eddie hummed beneath him. “The waitress. Why didn’t you want me to tip her?”

“She was trying to do a good deed. Showing our gratitude and allowing her to feel good about it is just what she wanted. Money would cheapen it, make it feel like maybe she did not help as much as she thought. This way, she’ll tell the story forever, probably. The day she helped two poor hungry, beaten children and changed their lives,” said Eddie, a faint chuckle vibrating in his chest.

“She changed our lives?” asked Waylon.

“That’s a stupid question,” said Eddie, yawning. “Anyone you pass technically changed your life just by being there, right? So she changed our lives just by being at work.”

“You changed my life,” whispered Waylon, nuzzling his forehead against Eddie’s flushed neck.

“I just explained to you how terribly common that is,” said Eddie, reaching up to gently caress Waylon’s cheek in the dim motel room.

“I don’t care. It’s true,” said Waylon. He tilted his head to kiss Eddie’s chin. “I love you.” They stayed there with bodies entwined, until they were both having trouble keeping their eyes open.

“You seem different,” said Eddie.

“So do you.”


	16. Forever

Saturday was a blur in Waylon’s mind. They decided to stay in the Denver motel for the weekend, and Eddie seemed to only want one thing. Waylon woke up to Eddie’s hands on his naked body. All of his soreness and tiredness was forgotten after Eddie began touching him. They would indulge in one another until they were both exhausted, then pass out and nap entwined with one another, only to wake up and repeat the process. There were a few quick trips to the convenient store across the street for cheap food. Other than those brakes, the two lost all track of time, too caught up in one another.

Waylon woke once to find Eddie staring at him while napping, a finger twirling around a red lock until it became curled and landed in the center of his forehead. There was a definite shift from the violence and tension in their first day in the motel. Eddie kissed him, pleased him, and proved his devotion. Everything seemed perfect, as long as Waylon ignored the very real problems facing them on Sunday night.

The end of the weekend threatened to end their bliss. When Sunday arrived, they decided to get some fresh air. An entire day in the motel room had started to wear on both of the boys. They decided to walk around and see if they could find anything interesting. A small park a few blocks away from their motel proved a welcome distraction. Residents were walking dogs, jogging around trails, or eating their lunches on the public tables. There were shady trees and a view of the mountains in the distance. Waylon lifted up his phone and took a picture of the view, and then another picture with the camera aimed back at him and Eddie. “Smile,” said Waylon.

Eddie did not smile, but Waylon snapped the picture anyways. “Why do you want pictures at a time like this?” asked Eddie.

“It’s pretty here. And it’s a good memory. Being here with you,” said Waylon, smiling as he looked at the picture before tucking his phone away. “We need to get over to the bus station at some time today. I can probably trade in my return ticket for a discount on a new destination. We need to choose where we are going to go next. I’m thinking somewhere warm. I can definitely picture us on a beach somewhere…”

“Do you want to go back? To Leadville?” asked Eddie.

“ _No_ ,” said Waylon, the response coming automatically. The question seemed to come out of nowhere. Waylon stared at the ground, frowning.

“But there’s going to be trouble if we don’t go back, right? It’ll all get very real,” said Eddie. “So, let’s go back.” Waylon did not reply immediately, biting his lip as the gears in his head turned. “It’s decided.”

“How?!” said Waylon, his voice rising.

“You were considering it. That means you want to go back,” said Eddie.

“I don’t, though,” said Waylon, turning to grasp Eddie’s hand and tug like a petulant toddler. “Nothing is decided. We need to talk about it. We’re a partnership now, there’s no making decisions without discussing it.” Waylon set his jaw and met Eddie’s blue stare.

“What are we really going to do if we don’t go back?” asked Edie.

“I’m more worried about what we will do if we do go back,” said Waylon, gripping Eddie’s hand tighter as he stared at the ground.

“You can do whatever you want,” said Eddie, sighing as he stared away, toward the distant peaks.

“You’re a liar,” said Waylon.

“I’m not a liar,” said Eddie, chuckling to himself. “You can go back and apply to that college. You’ll get in this time. You can graduate, with honors, and get a scholarship.”

“But what about you?” asked Waylon. Eddie took a step away, pulling his hand from Waylon’s, and stared away.

“Me? Well, I’m different than you,” said Eddie, sighing. “Very different. I’ll just go back, and continue to do nothing. Eat. Sleep. Fuck. Wait to die.”

“Don’t talk like that,” said Waylon, pushing on Eddie’s shoulder and forcing him to turn. Once they were facing one another again, Waylon glared, his face scrunching up.

“What’s with that face?” asked Eddie, reaching out to stroke Waylon’s cheek. “What are you thinking about?”

“Why did you ask me to come with you? Why did you want to run away with me? Did you even have any intention of ever trying to make a real life with me?” asked Waylon. Eddie turned his head again, his expression hidden. Waylon braced himself, suspecting that meant he would not like Eddie’s answer.

“I don’t know,” said Eddie. “I didn’t want to have to think. I didn’t want to think about all the shit going on in my life. When I’m fucking you, I don’t think about anything else.” Eddie turned around and the expression on his face was difficult for Waylon to decipher. “When we’re not fucking, though, I think about other things. I worry about the future. I think about a situation where I could not see you every day and…it makes me very…scared.”

Waylon stepped closer and looked up at Eddie. “You don’t have to be scared of that. I won’t leave you.”

“I’ve decided we need to go back,” said Eddie. “Before things get out of hand. You are a good person. You’ve forgiven me for everything, and stuck by me, even knowing my past. In the beginning, I just wondered how far you would go, how much control you would really give me…”

“Control?” asked Waylon, shaking his head.

“It made me feel powerful. To have control over at least one thing in my life. Although, I only had it because you were willing to give it to me.” Eddie stopped and sighed. Waylon was staring with wide brown eyes. He suspected from the beginning that the bullying was about something more, but he had not realized how self-aware Edie had been the entire time. It was a strange realization. “I just want things to go back to the way they were before. Sometimes I think it would be better if I’d never met you. Better if I had not slept by your side in the motel room after the dance. It would have been better if you had never held me gently, or told me that you wanted a kiss…it would have been easier…”

When Eddie finally turned to meet Waylon’s gaze, his face was uncharacteristically red. He reached his hand up, very slowly, and rubbed the back of his fingers along Waylon’s lips. He stared at them, as though they held some deeper answers.

“Eddie…do you…love me?” asked Waylon.

“I…” Eddie stared, but had to look away. The red color on his cheeks deepened, spreading to his ears, and the shaved sides of his head. “Love…”

Waylon did not wait for clarification. He launched himself at Eddie, and they met in a fierce kiss, arms wrapping around one another, willfully ignorant of the eyes of nearby pedestrians. Eddie pushed his fingers through Waylon’s red hair as they kissed, his touch gentle and light. Waylon’s hands splayed across Eddie’s back as he fought to pull him impossibly closer. Waylon gave a pathetic whimper as his knees threatened to give out, and he clung to Eddie for dear life. Eddie chuckled as he allowed Waylon to drag them both down to their knees in the middle of the park.

“I’m so relieved, daring,” said Eddie, giving a carefree laugh. “It feels so good to confess it. To know that you feel the same way. That we’re going to really be together, and make this work.”

“Of course we will,” said Waylon, kissing Eddie anew. “You’re the most important person to me.”

“You’re my family now,” whispered Eddie, nestling his head against Waylon’s neck.

The pair went back to the motel room and gathered their belongings, arriving at the bus station with time to spare before their return trip to Leadville. They sat in the crowded waiting area, planning their next move.

“Where will you go?” asked Waylon.

“I don’t know. I’ll figure it out,” said Eddie.

“We will figure it out together. You can’t go back to that apartment, obviously. There are shelters for kids in your situation. It should be possible to find somewhere to rent, considering you have a job…”

“Even if I have to sneak into the field house every night until graduation, I’ll make it work,” said Eddie.

“Give me your phone,” said Waylon. Eddie handed it over with a suspicious narrowing of his eyes. Waylon used the phone to make an important call.

“Eddie! Where have you been?”

“Hey, Claire. Sorry, uh, this is Waylon,” he said, into the phone. “Sorry to call you so suddenly, but I was wondering…Eddie had some trouble, and he can’t go back to his apartment. It’s dangerous for him there. I know you helped get Eddie into our school, and was wondering if you had any other connections or ideas on a place he could…”

“Here!” said Claire. “He can stay here. My parents are very active in the church community, and ever since my ‘delicate condition’ they’ve been active in an outreach program for ‘at-risk’ teens. I know they will help find him a safe place. Just come to my house. Eddie knows where it is.”

“That’s…that’s amazing,” said Waylon, unable to keep the huge smile from his face. “Perfect. We’re not in town, yet, but we will be there around five, if that’s alright?”

“Perfect. You really are good for Eddie, Waylon. I’m glad you called,” said Claire. “See you soon!”

Waylon blushed from the compliment and stuttered into the phone. “A-alright. Bye.”

“Calling your girlfriend?” asked Eddie, grinning.

“Claire said you can stay with her. Her parents help troubled teens,” said Waylon. Eddie snorted.

“Troubled teens? That’s me? Really?” asked Eddie.

“The bruises on your face are faded and yellow, but they’re still there. No one’s going to doubt that you need help. I think troubled teen describes you perfectly,” said Waylon, his tone matter-of-fact. Eddie shrugged and made no further comments. Once the luggage was stored and both boys were safe on the bus, they sat, leaning into one another. Eddie reached down and pulled Waylon’s hand into his, threading their fingers together. Neither spoke for the longest time, until they were both asleep, hands still clasped.

They woke up when they got back to Leadville. Eddie pulled Waylon’s luggage, as well as carrying his own bag, as they walked the two miles to Claire’s house. The setup proved to be better than either had anticipated. Claire’s older brother was in college, but there was a room above the garage for the few times he came home to visit. Claire’s parents were very kind and invited the boys to join them for dinner. They discussed getting Eddie a more permanent place to stay while he finished high school. Claire’s father also offered to use his influence at the school to help Eddie get re-tests for the exams he had to miss. Everything was going better than either boy had dared to hope. Waylon walked Eddie up to his room. Claire showed them around, then left to allow them some privacy to say goodbye.

As soon as the door to the garage bedroom shut behind Claire, Eddie was on Waylon, pressing him against the door. His breath ghosted along Waylon’s neck and ear as he inhaled deeply. “What time does your mom expect you back?” asked Eddie, the sound muffled by Waylon’s hair.

“S-soon,” said Waylon, his hands pressing against Eddie’s chest in an attempt to dissuade his actions. “We shouldn’t mess around in Claire’s brother’s room…”

“Ten minutes,” said Eddie, lips moving against Waylon’s ear before his tongue dipped inside, causing Waylon to squirm and squeak. “Just smelling you, and I’m already there…”

Waylon leaned against the door, tilting his neck back to ease Eddie’s movements as he began kissing and sucking his way down Waylon’s neck. “Okay.” Waylon finally managed to breathe. “Even if it takes longer…It’s okay.”

The boys spent considerably longer than ten minutes wrapping up their goodbyes. They attempted to fool around over their clothes, but soon those intentions were forgotten. Eddie promised once they were nude that he would not try to penetrate Waylon since their supplies were still packed away. That promise was also thrown out when Eddie tongued down Waylon’s hole on the borrowed bed until Waylon was begging Eddie to take him. Only when they were both spent, with sweat and spunk drying on their skin, did they finally say goodbye.

“It’s not for long,” said Waylon, laughing as Eddie continued to kiss and touch him near the door. “I will see you in the morning, at school.”

“Mmm,” said Eddie, still nipping at Waylon’s skin, unwilling to relinquish his grip on Waylon. “Everyone’s going to know we’re a couple.”

“I know,” said Waylon, smiling. “It will be okay. We’ll be in it together.”

“Together,” Eddie repeated, sighing as he stepped back and allowed Waylon to open the door. “Good night.”

“Bye,” said Waylon, smiling as he walked outside and resumed pulling his suitcase the rest of the way to his house. It was already dark, and he was quickly composing lies to explain his lateness. The bus broke down. There was a mix-up with his luggage. Waylon had been the only witness in a hit-and-run and had to stop on his way home to answer questions from the police. Each lie was more exaggerated than the last. He hoped against hope that his mother was at work that evening, and she would not even notice that he had been gone.

Waylon arrived at his house and checked the garage, but it was down, prohibiting him from knowing if his mother’s car was home. He took a deep breath and walked through the front door. Inside, the kitchen and living areas were dark. Waylon began to drag his suitcase inside, relieved at the lucky break. Suddenly, a light flicked on in the hallway that led to his mother’s bedroom.

“Way-way?”

“Hi, Mother! I’m home,” said Waylon, brightly. He could see her figure outlined in the light, wearing her usual house robe. Without warning, she ran forward and wrapped her arms around Waylon, clutching him to her body with bruising force. She was making a pained noise that Waylon could not remember having heard in his life. He realized that she was actually crying. He had never seen his mother cry—not through two divorces, a high-stress job at the hospital, and all of the hardships in their life together. Waylon was unsure what exactly had initiated the strange response, and he did not want to admit anything outright. Instead, he stood awkwardly while she held him, the force of her sobs shaking both of their bodies.

“Oh God,” said Mother, through her tears. “It’s all my fault. _It’s all my fault_! I was so busy with work. I did not even call to check on you. I didn’t…” her voice broke again, and she had to pause to cry pitifully against Waylon’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, Mother. Nothing is wrong. I am home now. I am safe, see?”

“Where were you?” she asked, pulling away to stare at Waylon’s face. Her eyes were so red from crying that they reminded Waylon of the bloody horror of Eddie’s injuries. Waylon shook his head, putting on wide eyes as though he did not understand her concerns. The act only added to her anger. “Don’t shake your head. I called Carol to find out why you were running late—she said you never showed up. You never went to Denver! The bus company told me that the ticket was used, and the bank had a large withdrawal the day you left! I was so scared! I’ve been sitting here, for hours, worried sick…” She let go of Waylon and began pacing in her robe, talking almost to herself. “I want to call the police—in case you were abducted, or hurt, or some other incident. But Carol said you had called her— _you lied to her_. If you were off on a fun holiday weekend with your friends, behind my back, and I called the police…the record could come back to haunt you! What would Berkeley think if you had a police record for running away and stealing from your own mother!”

“I didn’t _steal_ anything…” Waylon protested, drawing his mother’s attention again. She stared at him, face splotchy from crying.

“Well, explain to me what happened,” she said.

“I was with a friend. I didn’t want to go to Aunt Carol’s. I wanted to go out with friends. I thought you would be mad, so I hid it. I was going to come back, though,” said Waylon. Mother didn’t know his original intentions. “I’m sorry I am running late, I was just…”

“You lied to me. _Me_ —your mother, who has _always trusted_ you. You _lied_ to me. Now I question everything you’ve ever told me. Are you even on the yearbook?”

“Of course I’m on the yearbook, Miles is the editor, and I am…”

“I can’t believe a word you say,” said Mother, shaking her head with a lost expression on her face. “All I have done in this world, since you were born, is work to give you the best life. To make sure you get the best grades, to get into a prestigious university, to achieve a worthy job that will make you happy. I’ve sacrificed _so much_ to give you this life. And this is how you repay me? Running away with your friends for a party weekend? Were you drinking?”

“No…”

“Smoking cigarettes?! Were you piping?!”

“Piping? I don’t even know what that is…”

“Crystal Meth?!” she said, her voice raising until she was practically screeching and her eyes glazing over with a strange look. She had to pause and put a hand over her head as she collected herself. “I have to think about all of this. _Go to your room_.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Waylon, abandoning his suitcase, happy to rush upstairs into the safety of his bedroom. He closed the door behind himself and realized that he was shaking. Mother’s rampages usually ended with much more violence. He had expected at least a slap for admitting to lying. Perhaps it really was going to get better. Maybe realizing that Waylon was almost an adult, and able to leave of his own volition, had awakened her to the fact that she needed to treat Waylon with more respect. He wasn’t a little kid anymore. After his very adult weekend, Waylon felt more like a man that he ever had in his life.

He desperately needed to shower, but he did not want to leave his room. Instead, he changed into pajamas and crawled into his own bed. He had missed his lame bedroom with its outdated posters and Pokemon comforter. He wondered if he should change it before he invited Eddie over. Would his mother be willing to have his friend Eddie over for dinner? That was a conversation for after she calmed down.

Waylon was starting to drift off in the warm darkness of his own room, thinking about Eddie and the problems they would face going forward. He thought about needing to find Eddie a home. He thought about needing to get himself into a college where Eddie could follow. Mostly, he just thought about Eddie. He could not find it in him to regret anything that had happened that weekend. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he did not notice the door opening.

He gasped in surprise when he felt hands tighten around his throat. His first instinct was to scream, but thumbs pressed into his throat with shocking strength and he could have sworn he felt his windpipe collapse from the pressure. He gasped, and struggled, and stared up into the determined eyes of… “Mo…ther…” he barely managed to form the words before all air escaped his lungs.

“After everything, you’re just going to disappoint me, _leave me_ —just like your fathers,” said Mother through clenched teeth as she straddled Waylon, choking off his air. “I won’t let you disappoint me. _I won’t let you leave me_. I won’t _fail_ as your mother. At least if we die together, you’ll stay with me forever…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: The exciting conclusion, and then the epilogue. Almost done.


	17. Family

Waylon clawed at his mother’s hands, but her grip was vice-like in its ferocity. He began to see black dots floating in his vision as his lungs burned from the lack of air. He tried to push her face, her shoulders—anything. Finally, in his desperation, his flailing hands came into contact with something on his nightstand. He grasped the object, and used it as a cudgel. It turned out to be an alarm clock which struck Mother hard enough that she winced and removed one hand from around his neck. She lifted her hand to her injury and came away with blood on her fingers. She stared in disbelief for several seconds before diverting her gaze back down at Waylon, struggling to pull in breaths around her lessened grip. “You don’t need to fight it, Way-Way. Don’t be afraid. It will all be over soon…”

Once her hands returned, Waylon used all his remaining strength to push Mother from his body. He caught her by surprise, and Mother fell off of his small bed and cracked her head against the nightstand. Waylon watched in horror as her neck twisted at an unnatural angle before she fell to the ground. He tried to scream for help, though he knew no one could hear him. He needed to call the police, but his voice was not working? In his panic, Waylon sat on the floor of his room, staring at his mother as a pool of blood formed on the carpet around her head. He was so scared that his fingers almost could not text out a message.

_Mother attacked me. Hit her head. She’s not moving but my voice won’t work. Please dial 911 and send them to my house._

_Wait there_ , Eddie replied in a text. Waylon sat rocking on the floor, staring at his motionless mother. He could not determine if her lungs were moving, and he felt cold with fear. Waylon was sure that he had murdered his own mother. He trusted that Eddie would send help. All he needed to do was wait patiently. Any life saving measures he attempted could hurt more than it helped.

Less than twenty minutes later, Waylon heard the door downstairs open so violently it slammed against the wall. Waylon had not heard sirens, but he assumed it was the police, until he saw Eddie’s tall silhouette in the doorway.

“Darling,” he said, immediately rushing to Waylon.

_Help her_ , Waylon attempted to say, but his voice would not work. He pointed, desperately, at his mother lying still on the carpet. Eddie ignored the pointing and gently put a hand to Waylon’s neck. He stared down at Waylon’s throat, tilting his head from side to side to see all of the damage.

“Shit, it looks like you were attacked by an anaconda. Can you breathe?” asked Eddie. Waylon nodded vigorously and pointed frantically. Eddie finally gave a resigned sigh and went over to where Waylon’s mother lie. He moved around her, touching her neck with two fingers and holding a hand in front of her mouth before returning to Waylon’s side. “She’s breathing—she’s not dead. Yet.” Eddie reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a pocket knife.

_What?! NO!_ , Waylon silently pleaded, but Eddie was not looking at him. When Waylon grabbed his arm, Eddie violently shook him off and stalked over toward Mother. “ _Nu…oh_ ,” Waylon forced out. He watched helplessly as Eddie held the knife in one hand, and stared down at the crumpled form of his mother.

“It’s self defense,” said Eddie, ignoring Waylon’s hoarse objections. “No one is allowed to hurt you.”

“Please…” Waylon managed to gasp. Eddie glanced up and met Waylon’s eyes, red from tears. The hard, determined look on his face slowly fell and the muscles in his shoulders seemed to relax. Eddie finally flipped the knife closed, and walked back to where Waylon was still on the floor. He pulled out his phone, instead, and dialed. “There’s been an emergency. We’re in Magnolia Run subdivision house 2536. We need an ambulance.”

Eddie stayed on the line as indicated. He sank to the ground beside Waylon, and slid his arm around him, holding him close. The other hand kept the phone pressed to his face. He answered questions when prompted, but otherwise pressed his head to Waylon’s, kissing him. “Everything will be alright now,” he whispered.

The police arrived first with the ambulance following noisily behind. They immediately began asking questions, zeroing in on Eddie. Waylon attempted to explain the situation, but his voice was unusable. He was ushered downstairs to the ambulance where they began a complete examination. They asked him questions and shined lights into his eyes. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, his mother, strapped to a gurney, and pushed into the back of another ambulance. The doors shut and the lights clicked on as the ambulance disappeared down the road, sirens blaring. They started to shut the doors to Waylon’s ambulance as well. Waylon tried to get the attention of someone in charge to ask about Eddie and request that he come to the hospital. His silent cries were ignored. The last thing Waylon saw as the doors closed was Eddie, escorted into a police car by a uniformed officer.

After the adrenaline from the ordeal began to wear off, Waylon recognized that every breath was agony. He was given oxygen in the ambulance, and they were calling in different codes to the hospital. He was immediately wheeled back to intensive care where a new set of doctors in blue scrubs examined his neck, turning his head, palpitating his throat, and shining lights into his mouth.

“Monitor his breaths per minute…” said one doctor.

“Could be a soft tissue injury…” said another.

Waylon began to feel frightened, struggling to breath again due to his excitement.

“Blood pressure rising…requesting sedation…”

“Just breathe, kid, you’re going to be just fine…”

They were the last words Waylon heard before his vision faded away.

——

When Waylon finally woke, he felt a heaviness on his chest. He was groggy and immediately worried that he was still having trouble breathing. Those fears vanished when the weight lifted as soon as he began to stir. Waylon opened his eyes and saw Eddie there, leaning over him. He was sitting in a chair pulled up next to Waylon’s bed. Judging by Eddie’s tired eyes and greasy hair, Waylon guessed he had been there all night.

_Eddie_ , Waylon attempted to say, realizing that his voice was still broken.

“Shh,” Eddie shushed, pushing his hand through Waylon’s bangs to brush them out of his face. “There’s some bruising on your throat. I mean, outside, and inside. But you’re going to be alright. Keeping you here until they’re sure you aren’t having further complications. If your trachea collapses, it’s a big deal, apparently.”

Waylon tried to laugh but it came out as a crackling, rasping sound. When Eddie realized it was an attempt to laugh he gave a tired chuckle of his own. “Save your voice. No more laughing.” Waylon snorted. “No snorting.” Waylon stuck his tongue out. “Okay, now you’re just being difficult.” Waylon leaned and reached for Eddie’s face, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. “You had me so worried.”

“Sorry…” said Waylon, a low whisper being the only thing that he could manage. Eddie just moved in even closer and pressed their foreheads together. “Mother?”

“She’s alive. She’s…well, you should see for yourself, when you’re feeling better,” said Eddie. The ominous way he ended the sentence left a sick feeling in the pit of Waylon’s stomach.

It took some time for the doctors and nurses to examine Waylon after he was awake. He was given some medication to help with the pain and something to assist his throat. It made it more bearable for Waylon to talk, though the doctors still encouraged him to save his voice. He was also instructed to avoid strenuous exercise to ensure his airways were not overtaxed. The doctors finally gave Waylon permission to walk around the hospital, though he would be staying another night for observation. Once the doctors were gone, Eddie nudged Waylon’s shoulder and sighed. “Nothing strenuous, for how long? And how long will your throat be out of commission? These are serious, important questions.” Waylon just grinned and shook his head.

Waylon wore a borrowed robe over his hospital gown as he walked out of his room. He had to lean against Eddie for strength as they walked to another wing of the hospital where Waylon’s mother was being held. There was a law enforcement officer in the hallway, looking bored. “Police?” Waylon whispered to Eddie.

“Yeah, well, she attacked you. They were going to hold her on charges. But…” Eddie shrugged and opened the door, letting Waylon inside.

In the room, Waylon’s mother was staring at a television installed on the wall near the ceiling. She giggled loudly at some joke when they entered. Waylon checked and saw Spongebob on the screen. Waylon’s mother never wasted time on anything as frivolous as television, and certainly not Spongebob Squarepants. When Waylon stepped further into the room, her attention snapped toward him.

“Oh! Hello!” she said, brightly. Her forehead was covered in a bandage, but she still smiled. “I’m Evie!” Waylon was not sure how to respond. He stared in confusion as his mother reached for a notepad at the side of the bed. “What’s your name?”

“Way…” was all he managed to say before his voice choked off. He watched as his mother quickly scribbled his name on the pad.

“Way. I like that name! Way! Way-Way. We’re wearing the same thing, are you hospitalized, too? Do you like cartoons, Way?”

Waylon nodded his head, though he was frowning. He started to back up toward the door and bumped into Eddie’s chest.

“Thought you should see for yourself,” said Eddie. “She’s had some memory loss. Probably temporary. She’s still going to be charged for attacking you—but she can’t remember. No idea what happens next with her. But I’m sure you can get away from her, now.” Waylon silently nodded and allowed himself to be led out into the hallway. He stared at his feet as they walked back to his room. Once they were back inside, Waylon slid his arms around Eddie’s neck and pulled him into a hug.

“Scared,” Waylon whispered as he stood there, allowing Eddie to rub his back as he held him. “What now?”

“It’s really annoying,” said Eddie, sighing. “Having to rely on people. I just want to be free of all of it.”

“We’re just kids,” said Waylon. “No matter how grown up you think you are.” The pain of speaking was finally taking its toll and Waylon started to cough painfully against Eddie’s shirt.

“Maybe you could go live with your aunt in Denver. You would probably have a better life with family,” said Eddie.

“No,” said Waylon, the word painfully loud from his tender throat. He pat his hand on Eddie’s chest, right over his heart. “Family.”

“Claire’s parents are helping me find some place to stay,” said Eddie. “Maybe they can help you too? Maybe we can be roommates,” said Eddie. Waylon chuckled.

“One track mind,” he whispered against Eddie’s chest, causing him to join in the laughter. His chest vibrated pleasantly against Waylon’s cheek.

“We probably shouldn’t be laughing,” said Eddie, pulling back to grin at Waylon. “Especially you, you’re going to hurt your throat.” Waylon shrugged helplessly quivering with silent laughter. Eddie gently tilted Waylon’s chin until they were kissing, softly. Eddie slid his hands lower down Waylon’s back, pressing their bodies together. Waylon made a soft, breathy noise and rolled his hips forward. “Dammit,” said Eddie, pushing his forehead against Waylon’s. “What should I do? I really want to fuck you right now.”

“Okay,” Waylon said, automatically.

“There’s like a hundred nurses around here. What are you, stupid?” asked Eddie, his head dropping back as he laughed.

“Probably,” said Waylon, grinning.

“That’s annoying. I need you to be smart and get into a top college so you can support me,” said Eddie, tapping Waylon on the forehead. Waylon’s eyes went wide as he absorbed what Eddie had said. Eddie paused and diverted his eyes, looking embarrassed by his uncensored remark.

“I already forgot everything from the midterms due to that weekend,” whispered Waylon. “You fucked it right out of my head.”

“You really are a masochist, aren’t you?” asked Eddie.

“You made me this way,” said Waylon.

“Keep thinking that,” said Eddie, grinning as he pulled Waylon back close against his chest. “You know, nothing about this life is going to be easy for us.”

“That’s true,” said Waylon.

“But as long as I have you, I don’t care about the rest of it. I know we’ll be okay,” said Eddie, kissing Waylon again. Their kissing continued until the nurses came in to check on Waylon’s condition.

——

Waylon was lying in his hospital bed, resting, while Eddie took a shower in the private bathroom attached to Waylon’s room. A knock on the door caught his attention.

“Hey, you okay for visitors?”

“Miles,” said Waylon, smiling as he turned over.

“Shit, that’s your voice?” said Miles, shaking his head. “Terrible.” Miles sat on the bed and both of the boys turned when the bathroom door opened. Eddie walked out, his wet hair dripping in his face and a towel around his waist. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as Miles stared, and Waylon blushed. Eddie was unconcerned.

“Hey Upshur, throw me my bag?” asked Eddie. It took Miles a few seconds to realize he needed to act. He grabbed a black canvas bag and tossed it over toward Eddie. “Thanks,” Eddie said as he walked into the bathroom with his bag. He left the door open behind him.

“So I guess that’s official now then,” said Miles. Waylon nodded. “I can’t believe she finally did it. She finally put you in the hospital. I was always worried it would happen, but not like this. Shit.”

“She’s hurt,” said Waylon, his voice tired and sore from use.

“Good. Not as hurt as she should be. Pissed me off how you just put up with it all these years,” said Miles.

“This happened before?” asked Eddie from the doorway. He had his jeans on and had paused in the act of sliding a black t-shirt over his head.

“Uh, yeah? All the damn time,” said Miles, scoffing at Eddie’s glower. “How could you not know?”

“Waylon never told me,” said Eddie, tossing a cold, sidelong glance at Waylon.

“Never came up,” said Waylon, holding up his palms and giving a sheepish smile.

“That black eye then, the one I saw you with recently. That was your mother?” asked Eddie. Waylon nodded, staring down at his hands, idly fiddling with the sheets. “She beats you then?”

“She beats him. She grounds him for years at a time. She never lets him go anywhere, at least before yearbook,” said Miles, frowning at Waylon. “She had him so fucked in the head, he basically woke up and lived his life just to make her happy. And when she wasn’t happy, even if it wasn’t Waylon’s fault, he paid the price. I thought it would get better if he could spend less time at home, but maybe it just got worse.”

“You’ve been his friend for years, why didn’t you _do_ something?” asked Eddie, redirecting his glare in Miles’ direction.

“Oh, you mean like tell a teacher? Talk to a school counselor? Call Child Protective Services? Because I did all of those things. Unfortunately, by the time I got the idea to go to the police, I had a reputation as someone who made up stories. Waylon always denied it.”

“Why?” Eddie asked, his head whipping around to frown at Waylon, again..

“She’s my mom,” he croaked out weakly. The way Eddie was staring at him made him feel lower than low. Eddie had fought back against his abusers. He might not have followed through with criminal charges, but he fought back with his fists, and he moved away with his mom. All Waylon had done was try harder to please his mother to avoid being punished. “You were right. I’m pathetic.”

“Being abused by the people who are supposed to watch out for you doesn’t make you pathetic,” said Eddie.

“I hate to break up this moment but you guys should probably be aware I’m not the only one on the way over,” said Miles.

Within minutes, the hospital room was flooded with visitors. School was officially released and rumor of what had happened to Waylon and Eddie was everywhere. Lisa and Hope showed up with snacks. Claire brought all of her theater friends, and later her parents joined as well. They promised to assist Waylon the same way they had Eddie, and to make sure they both had a place to stay where they would be safe until graduation.

It was overwhelming to see so many people take an interest. Waylon had always felt like an outsider at his school—the smart kid no one really knew that followed around his one and only friend. He was actually looking forward to going back to school with people supporting him, and his relationship with Eddie out in the open.

Eventually, everyone began to clear out. Miles was the last to go, and Hope had stuck around waiting for him. Apparently Waylon was not the only one in a serious relationship. Eddie stayed behind, crawling onto the tiny bed with Waylon.

“I was so selfish. Worried about myself, trying to keep you from knowing me too well. And instead, I never bothered getting to know you well enough. I had no idea you had trouble at home,” said Eddie, shaking his head. “I guess I never really bothered to think about it. It makes sense. Why you were so eager to leave. Why you were so eager to please. The lies that came so naturally, especially when I asked about your bruise.” Eddie sighed. “I’m not going to be so blind in the future, I promise. We are in this together.”

“You said it, in Denver. Broken people are just drawn to one another,” said Waylon, sliding his hand across the sheets to cover Eddie’s hand.

“Yeah well, you are always saying that we’re just kids. There’s still time for us to fix all of this. We won’t be broken forever,” said Eddie.

“I don’t feel broken anymore, now that I have you here,” Waylon said, smiling. His voice was ready to give out after all of the talking. He was happy to stop talking and just sit in the bed, staring at Eddie, smiling. Waylon didn’t need his voice to communicate his devotion. He had run away and protected Eddie when he needed it most, and Eddie had done the same for him. Whatever came next, they would face it together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am saving my end notes /thanks for the epilogue which will be posted regular time next week. But I mean, deep breath, it's over. Wow! This story that started out about an abusive bully dub-con situation somehow blossomed into true soulmate level love, which is how you know it's fanfiction and not real life. The epilogue checks in on what's happening to them a little in the future!!! I want to answer as many questions about the future as people have, SO IF YOU ARE CURIOUS about something and want it addressed in the epilogue, this is literally your only chance to tell me because I'm posting next week and then making this shit complete. Boom.


	18. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The extra chapter of Koi no Mannaka is one of the cutest things I have ever read. Unfortunately, writing a chapter from a cat's point-of-view isn't one of my strong suits. I hope you enjoy this ending instead and find it appropriate for the story. Thanks for reading :)

Waylon sat, staring at the computer screen, trying to put the finishing touches on his programming project. He squinted and pushed long red hair out of his eyes, only to have it fall right back into them. Waylon was still adjusting to having his hair grown out long enough to tuck behind his ears, but at least it stayed put after he pushed it back the second time. He started to type a quick fix to a line of code when he was distracted by a series of wet licks across his face.

“Stop!” said Waylon, giggling. “This is important homework. You’re distracting me.” The licking redoubled, combined with two paws on his chest. “Can’t you sit on your dog bed for _two minutes_ while I finish this homework?” asked Waylon. The puppy licked his chin as an answer—and that answer was _no_. Waylon’s over-sized Berkeley t-shirt and skinny jeans were covered with hairs. The puppy had short brown fur with black around its muzzle, and white fur on its belly and paws. It was a mutt, full of energy and happiness. Waylon glanced at the time on the computer screen and frowned. The sound of the door opening in the other room perked up the ears of both the puppy and Waylon.

“Darling,” called Eddie.

“You’re late,” said Waylon, standing up and cradling the puppy like a baby, despite its wiggly attempts to escape confinement.

“I know, sorry,” said Eddie, still in the main room of their two bedroom apartment. “Melissa didn’t stop me, so I didn’t even realize that time was up.” Eddie walked into the spare bedroom that acted as a study and paused, holding a stack of unopened mail in his hands. “What the hell is that?”

“A puppy,” said Waylon, holding it up and grinning. The puppy yelped and struggled to jump onto Eddie.

“Obviously, darling, but why is it in our apartment…”

“Because I found him on my way home from class today,” said Waylon.

“Regardless of what you may have heard, finders does not, in fact, mean keepers. I’m sure his family is missing him terribly…” said Eddie.

“They moved,” said Waylon. “They left him— _on purpose_. Apparently, they agreed to adopt him before they found out the apartment they were moving to didn’t allow pets. Instead of finding him a new home, they just…they just _left_ him…” Eddie’s eyes were narrowed as he listened carefully, his face an emotionless mask. “They abandoned him, Eddie! They left him, with no one to care for him, and…”

Eddie sighed and walked closer, dropping the mail onto Waylon’s keyboard. “I know what you’re doing here, darling,” he said, reaching out to pull the puppy from Waylon’s arms. “…and it’s working.” Waylon laughed and clapped his hands.

“I knew it,” said Waylon, giving a mischievous grin.

“Can’t stand to see anyone left behind and abandoned like that,” said Eddie, lifting the puppy up and allowing it to lick his face. “It’s a lot of work, though. Did you think this through? We will need to pay the pet fee…”

“Already done,” said Waylon. “We’re doing fine between my internship and your part time job.”

“It will need food, a place to sleep…”

“Done and done! I bought a bed, supplies, and some food that’s special for puppies, and I am going to work up a schedule for walks, feeding, and playtime to assist with his growing and…”

“Your planning is annoying,” said Eddie.

“Sorry,” said Waylon, blushing as he bit his lower lip.

“He’s also going to need an entire new wardrobe,” said Eddie, holding the dog up again and turning it from side to side.

“It…wait, what?”

“I’m going to sew you so many clothes,” said Eddie, smirking at the confused puppy. “You are in charge of training it, though.”

“You got it,” said Waylon, smiling as he threw his arms around Eddie’s neck and hugged him, careful not to squish the puppy. “You make me so happy!”

“I know,” said Eddie, grinning as he set the puppy on the ground. They both watched as it tripped over too-big puppy paws and yipped adorably up at them. Eddie nodded as though the puppy had said something important. “He’s right. Where’s dinner? I am starving…”

“Sorry,” said Waylon, reaching up to toy with Eddie’s long black hair. Waylon had finally confessed his attraction to Eddie’s longer hair in middle school, and, as a type of compromise, Eddie had kept the sides buzzed short and grew out the top, pulled back in a short, messy ponytail. “I’m behind on my homework. Someone keeps distracting me.” Waylon gave a joking glare at the puppy. He released Eddie and sat back down at his computer, muttering at the mail now covering the keys. One letter stood out from the rest because of its fancy script and unique postage stamp. Waylon picked it up and broke the seal. He pulled out a piece of heavy card stock with engraved letters on the surface. He frowned at the letter. Eddie was oblivious, bending over to play with the puppy by pulling its tail and moving his hand before the puppy could nip his hand.

“What that?” asked Eddie, finally sensing Waylon’s silence.

“It’s…it’s a wedding invitation…” he said.

“Hmm, who’s getting married? I thought Miles and Hope were planning a long engagement…”

“No, yeah, they are,” said Waylon, shaking his head as he dropped the invitation. “It’s my mother, actually. She’s getting remarried.”

“Are you okay?” asked Eddie.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” asked Waylon, giving a casual shrug.

“Because your mother tried to kill you? You haven’t had more than brief conversations with her since all of the lawsuit and probation stuff. And now she’s reaching back out, after all these years?” Waylon’s response was a long-suffering stare.

“It’s over, and done, I’m thankful for that,” said Waylon.

“I know, rather hypocritical of me, considering I cut off all contact with my abusers and did not press charges, but…”

“She doesn’t remember it,” said Waylon, shaking his head and displacing some long red strands. “How can I keep holding a grudge against something she doesn’t even remember? Besides, she’s out of my life—I’ve moved on. My therapist is really proud of my progress.”

“I am, too,” said Eddie, smiling down at Waylon and watching him blush. Even after four years, Waylon still had trouble accepting compliments. “But seriously. Where is dinner?”

Waylon gave an exasperated sigh as he stood up and trudged into the kitchen, dodging the puppy when it attempted to pounce on his feet. In the past four years of cohabitation, Eddie had never cooked. The most he had done was pick up food for the two of them. But Waylon never had to take out the garbage, replace the light bulbs, clean the dishes, or do many other chores which Eddie always performed without complaint. They had developed a system that worked for them, and made them both happy.

Within minutes, the kitchen was alive with the scent of browning meat. Waylon stood by the stove, stirring a skillet of beef. His hair continuously fell into his eyes and he would push it away, the steam making the locks damp. He was focused on the task and did not notice when Eddie walked into the kitchen behind him.

“I don’t know which looks more delicious,” said Eddie with a wicked grin.

“You’re ridiculous,” said Waylon, shaking his head and holding a wooden spoon in one hand as he watched the stove.

“Aren’t you finished yet? If you keep looking this good, I might have to eat my dessert first,” said Eddie.

Waylon snorted and continued stirring the meat. “That’s the cheesiest thing you’ve said yet,” he said. Eddie gave a dark chuckle and walked behind Waylon. He pressed his chest into Waylon’s back and slid his hands around his waist. Eddie had filled out since high school, his tall frame now broad and muscular. Waylon had grown a couple inches, but he remained lithe and small, especially compared to Eddie.

“Don’t act like you don’t want it,” said Eddie, grinning. Waylon had to pause in his stirring when one of Eddie’s hands moved lower to grope him through his jeans. “I swear you wear these tight jeans just to punish me.”

“Well, you’re a very naughty boy,” said Waylon, grinning. “You need to be punished.”

“That’s it, get in the bedroom,” said Eddie in Waylon’s ear though it came out almost as a growl. “I need to punish you just for _threatening_ to punish me, you minx.” Eddie’s hand gripped the outline of Waylon’s growing erection through his jeans.

“After dinner,” whined Waylon.

“It’s taking too long,” said Eddie, moving his other hand up to brush Waylon’s longer hair away from his neck. He craned his head down and sucked at the exposed skin as Waylon tilted his head slightly.

“It wouldn’t take so long if you would _stop_ that,” said Waylon, reaching to turn off the stove. He removed the skillet from the heat and set it on a pot holder that was waiting on the counter.

“As if you want that,” said Eddie, grabbing Waylon’s waist and spinning him once the skillet was set down safely. Eddie pulled him in close, kissing his parted lips. His tongue attempted to deepen the kiss before they were interrupted by a loud whine.

“Uh oh,” said Waylon, pulling away from Eddie’s lips, “puppy needs to go out.” Eddie groaned and leaned in to kiss Waylon again, but he was dodged when Waylon turned his head. “If we don’t take him out, he will have an accident, that we will have to clean.” Eddie groaned again, louder. “Take him out! I already bought a leash and collar. Just walk him down the stairs into the grassy area and let him do his business. Oh, and take a plastic bag, in case he poops.”

“I know you aren’t serious,” said Eddie, a look of annoyance settling onto his handsome face. “You agreed you would do the training, darling.”

“I’m cooking,” said Waylon, still holding the wooden spoon as he popped a hip and crossed his arms. He leveled a stare at Eddie, and they each held the stare, refusing to relinquish their position. Finally, it was Eddie that caved. He sighed and went to find the dog and necessary items.

“Thank you,” chirped Waylon as he heard Eddie grumbling, collecting items, and finally walking out the door. He smiled as he finished up the dinner of meat and noodles with creamy sauce. It was from a mix, and definitely not gourmet, but Eddie never once complained about anything he was fed. He had gone hungry enough in his youth to never turn down a meal.

The meal was finished and cooling on the table as Waylon set out the plates and silverware. He felt slightly worried about what might have happened to Eddie, but soon forgot when he was distracted by the ringing of his phone.

“Hello?”

“Dude. You are never going to believe what came in the mail for me today…”

“Let me guess,” said Waylon, sitting down at the table, alone, as he held the phone to his ear and grinned. “An invitation to my mother’s wedding?”

“What the hell?” asked Miles, chuckling in disbelief. “She invited you too then, I presume?”

“Yep.”

“You going?”

“Nope.”

“Good. I’m not going either,” said Miles. “I know she claims she doesn’t remember, but it’s seriously not a good excuse. I never really bought her story. And anyways, who would _want_ to marry a mental case like that?”

“She’s a doctor, and she is an expert at putting on a good face,” said Waylon. “I’m not surprised. I didn’t even realize she was dating again, but I guess, once she didn’t have to hover over me all the time, she got some free time.”

“Hah. Yeah, she picked a shit day anyways,” said Miles.

“I didn’t even get that far on the invitation,” said Waylon, snorting a short laugh.

“Yeah it’s the last weekend in March…”

“Oh! Yeah, definitely wouldn’t be able to make it,” said Waylon. “Wouldn’t miss Edith’s birthday for the world.”

“She is damn cute,” said Miles. “Ran into Claire and her aunt a couple weekends ago. Man, three is the cutest age. She sings Itsy-Bitsy Spider and even does the hand motions.”

“That’s precious,” said Waylon, drawing out the last syllable as he felt a warmth in his chest. “Yeah, the next wedding I plan on going to is yours. How’s that going anyways?”

“Almost ready to pick a date,” said Miles.

“You know, it’s not really an engagement until you have set a date. That’s the whole point, you have a _future engagement_ , so you’re engaged…”

“We have a future engagement, just no date, so we have an engagement…to get a date for our engagement…so we are engaged to be engaged. We’re double engaged.”

“None of that makes sense…”

“We can’t all be as smart as you, Computer Guy. Already having a job lined up. You make me sick. I’m trying to get an internship at the local paper and I’ll be _lucky_ if I even get that. I wish I could travel and start working freelance, I have a buddy who went that route. But I gotta be around for my own wedding.”

“How’s the best man?” asked Waylon, grinning.

“Fuck you,” said Miles, and Waylon could hear the grin in his tone. “You’re still the best man. I just have to make Chris the best man, in name only. And he’s really excited to plan a bachelor party. As long as nothing goes wrong and he’s still not out on active duty. He’s supposed to be back next year, so should be plenty of time before the date.”

“Whenever that will be,” said Waylon. “I’m pretty impressed with Chris. He’s come a long way since high school…”

“Still doesn’t think I am good enough for his cousin,” said Miles.

“Well, Hope is pretty great, I’m not even sure you’re good enough for her…”

“You guys are both assholes,” said Miles. “You’ll have fun at the bachelor party together.”

“Please…please don’t make me go…” said Waylon.

“You have to! You’re a groomsman. The best man in all but name. What, your husband won’t let you go out with the guys?”

“I’m going to talk to Lisa, maybe she can find a way to do something joint with the groomsmen and bridesmaids so we don’t end up at some sleazy Leadville strip club…” said Waylon.

“How is Eddie anyways?” asked Miles.

“He’s…oh shit, where is he? He’s out walking the dog and it’s been an awful long time…”

“Dog? You got a dog?! Look at you two, taking the next step in your marriage. Parenthood…”

The door to the apartment slammed open louder than necessary, announcing Eddie’s arrival. “Eh, I gotta go. Dinner’s ready and he’s back so…”

“Alright. I’ll send your mother my regrets. And see you next month for the birthday party.”

“Sure thing, Miles. Good to hear from you.”

Waylon ended the call as he stood up and walked into the tiny entrance way of the apartment. Eddie was glaring down at the puppy, strands of black hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and a murderous gleam in his eye.

“What happened?” asked Waylon.

“The collar you bought is total shit,” said Eddie, not diverting his glare from the dog. “This stupid fucking barker got off the leash and ran away….”

“Did you hear that?!” squealed Waylon, smiling down at the puppy. “Eddie just named you!”

“I did not,” said Eddie, flashing a dangerous glare at Waylon. “I just spent the better part of the last hour chasing him down. He scared Blue Hair next door, she said she’s going to call and complain to the front office…”

“She complains about us once a month, anyways, because of the noise from sharing a wall with our bedroom…”

“Yeah…well…” Eddie sighed. He still looked angry, but at least he managed to bring his tone back down to normal. “I’m starving…”

“Come on, Barker! Dinner’s ready,” said Waylon with a bright smile that perfectly balanced out Eddie’s glower.

They sat down at their usual places at the table, their chairs directly next to one another. They ate in silence. Waylon paused at one point to lean his head onto Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie grumbled and continued cleaning his plate. Barker whined at their feet.

“He’s breaking my heart,” said Waylon, as Eddie began clearing the table. “I want to feed him, but I read that if you feed them from the table, it teaches them to beg. We can’t reinforce negative behaviors!”

“Whatever,” grumbled Eddie in the other room before turning on the faucet. Waylon played with Barker in the living room, feeding him dog treats, and throwing squeaky toys across the beige carpet of the living room. Waylon turned on the television while they played and was not surprised when Eddie went to take a shower without announcing it. Even after almost four years as roommates, Eddie was more accustomed to being on his own and acting without having to answer to anyone. Waylon admired Eddie’s independence. Waylon struggled daily with the need to look for validation and approval on every decision—but he was making progress.

The puppy was tuckered out and fell asleep on the couch when Eddie walked into the living room. He was freshly showered, wet black hair combed back, and wearing nothing but his boxers. Waylon smiled and put a finger up to his lips. He stared down where Barker was dreaming and twitching his tiny legs. “Shhh. Look how cute.”

“Yes, you are,” said Eddie, grinning as he smiled at Waylon. He took a seat on the couch, careful not to disrupt the puppy.

“Thank you,” whispered Waylon.

“For complimenting you?” asked Eddie.

“For letting me keep the puppy…” said Waylon. Eddie shrugged and sat back on the couch. Waylon leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Eddie’s cheek, still warm from the shower. “He will make a great addition to our family.”

“Our family,” said Eddie, sighing happily as he pulled Waylon in for a longer kiss with soft, shower-warm lips. Waylon scooted away from the puppy carefully, moving until he could lean flush against Eddie. Waylon was still wearing his t-shirt and jeans, feeling overdressed next to Eddie in his comfortable sleepwear. Waylon returned the kiss, hands traveling over Eddie’s warm, exposed chest. Part of Eddie’s routine, while he attended junior college and worked part time at the local theater, consisted of working out regularly. It had led for some very impressive definition. Waylon sighed happily into the kiss as his fingers trailed lightly down from Eddie’s chest, over his toned stomach, and then lower.

“I’m sorry about earlier. Let me make it up to you?” Waylon met Eddie’s eyes as his hand encountered the elastic edge of his boxers. Eddie smirked his approval before inhaling sharply as slender fingers pressed lower, brushing against the top of his pubic hair.

“Whatever you’d like, darling,” said Eddie, leaning in to kiss Waylon again as those fingers scratched lightly through his hair and finally wrapped around his waking member. Waylon broke the kiss and slid off of the couch until he was kneeling on the carpet in front of Eddie. He pulled the elastic of Eddie’s boxers down, until he had access to his entire genital area. Eddie smirked down at Waylon. “That’s a good start.”

Waylon’s brown eyes canted up as he gripped Eddie’s shaft and pulled it closer to his mouth. He held eye contact, judging every reaction as his tongue teased along the underside of Eddie’s shaft. He could tell by Eddie’s breathing and the small, uncontrollable movements in his hips what he enjoyed most. Waylon took his time, dragging his tongue across every inch and feeling Eddie throb in response. He had memorized the areas that caused the best response, beneath the crown, on the underside, and paid close attention, licking, kissing, and sucking until he could tongue Eddie’s slip and taste salty pre-come dripping freely.

“Fucking tease,” hissed Eddie after a long swipe of Waylon’s tongue that started at the head and ended with Waylon softly sucking at his balls. “Suck it, already.”

“Shhh,” said Waylon, pulling away and jerking his head toward where Barker was sleeping on the couch. Eddie grumbled, but soon was silenced when Waylon opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around Eddie’s cock, making short, slow bobbing movements. Each time, Waylon managed to take Eddie deeper and deeper until he was able to swallow him whole before his cheeks hollowed as he sucked hungrily.

“Fuck,” said Eddie as he grabbed Waylon’s head with one hand, and bucked his hips upwards. Waylon hummed around the intrusion, but worked to keep his throat relaxed, to allow Eddie to demonstrate his enjoyment. The wetter everything became, the easier Waylon could handle the enthusiastic response. Soon, Eddie was groaning loudly, and shoving Waylon’s head down into his lap. “Suck it like that.”

“Eddie,” said Waylon, pulling away with a slurping noise. “You have to be quiet. You’re going to wake the puppy…”

“Please tell me you are joking,” said Eddie, looking down with blue eyes so blown there was only a sliver of the usually intense blue visible. He raised his hips off the couch in an attempt to encourage Waylon, but was denied.

“Maybe we should go in the bedroom,” whispered Waylon. Eddie closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. Once his irritation was under control, he opened his eyes and glared at Waylon.

“Fine,” he managed through clenched teeth. He stood up from the couch and helped Waylon to his feet. Waylon was in the middle of wiping the drool from his mouth when Eddie leaned down and effortlessly picked him up and threw him over his shoulder. Waylon yelped loudly. “Now who’s waking the dog…”

“Eddie! Put me down,” said Waylon, though he was laughing. He squirmed in Eddie’s grip, trying to get comfortable, but it was a very short walk to the bedroom. Eddie easily tossed Waylon down onto their shared bed. He landed with a bounce and an adorable _oof_.

“Strip,” said Eddie, stepping out of his boxers. Waylon did not need to be told twice. His natural inclination to obey Eddie remained, especially in the bedroom. He shimmied out of his tight jeans, almost tripping. His shirt and briefs soon joined them in a pile on the floor. He would have put them in the clothes hamper, but he was stopped by the sensation of Eddie’s body heat encroaching on his personal space. Waylon started to turn his head to look back at Eddie when he was stopped by the feeling of Eddie’s breath against his neck. Waylon purred as Eddie brushed his hair out of the way and kissed a soft trail down to his bare shoulder. Waylon’s happy sigh was cut short when he suddenly felt something strange and cold around his neck.

“Wha…”

“Don’t move,” said Eddie, both hands quickly working at something around Waylon’s neck. Waylon turned to face Eddie, staring in confusion. “I said, _don’t move_. You used to listen better.”

“What are you…a dog collar?” asked Waylon.

“You bought the wrong size, darling,” said Eddie, grinning as he gently tightened the collar and buckled it around Waylon’s throat. “The dog slipped right out of it. But I had a feeling it would fit you perfectly…”

“He’s going to get bigger and grow into it,” said Waylon, fingers coming up to touch the black, leather collar.

“We’ll put it to good use while we wait,” said Eddie, a dark grin spreading across his face. Waylon was tugging at the collar, as one would a dress shirt that was buttoned all the way, when Eddie clipped on the leash.

“Really?” asked Waylon, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” said Eddie, giving the slightest tug on the leash and causing Waylon to whimper. “Really.” Eddie looked down very obviously between their naked bodies then raised his eyes to meet Waylon’s, a smirk spreading on his face. “You don’t look like you hate it.” Waylon swallowed hard, and the collar followed along with the movement in his throat. “You’ll like it…”

Waylon moaned louder than necessary when Eddie’s hand encircled his length and stroked him, slowly. “I want you, this just seems…unnecessary…” said Waylon, fingering the collar.

“It suits you,” said Eddie, leaning in to kiss Waylon’s neck right where the collar sat against his skin. His fingers began to pump Waylon slowly. He took the time to splay his hand out across Waylon’s balls, groping him. Eddie had had years to perfect the way he touched Waylon. He knew the exact combination of teasing movements to drive Waylon insane. Soon, Waylon was tilting his head and breathing heavily, the collar forgotten. At least, until Eddie pulled on the leash again. “On the bed. I don’t think I need to specify the position…”

Waylon backed up to the bed, whimpering at the loss of Eddie’s hand. He slowly sat down, staring up at Eddie standing in front of him, naked and holding the new leash. He folded the end of the leash in his hand and slapped it into his palm, creating a loud _smacking_ sound. Eddie made a circular movement with one finger and jerked his chin toward Waylon. He silently obeyed.

“That’s it, darling, I knew you could behave,” said Eddie. Waylon bit his lip as he sat on all fours, eyes locked on their gray and white gingham comforter. The collar felt strange around his neck, and he could not stop the automatic nerves. “Maybe you’ve earned a reward, for good behavior?”

“Rewa…” the question was stolen from Waylon’s lips by the feeling of a wet tongue teasing his balls, sliding up his perineum, and finally circling his hole. Waylon gasped at the cool sensation, and attempted to squirm away, until he was stopped by a yank on the leash.

“Stay,” said Eddie, so close to Waylon’s sex he could feel his warm breath against the wet skin. Once Waylon stilled, and Eddie was convinced he would not pull away again, Eddie scraped his teeth across Waylon’s fleshy ass cheek. “Good boy.”

It had been a long while since Waylon had received such attention. He gasped at each swipe of Eddie’s talented tongue. He pushed his hips back, silently imploring Eddie to continue. Eddie continued to torment him, rubbing the flat of his tongue up and down over Waylon’s most sensitive areas. A long series of breathy moans followed as he expertly probed Waylon’s hole. Waylon could feel himself relaxing, opening under Eddie’s careful ministrations. “Please,” breathed Waylon, dropping his chin to stare under his body. He could see Eddie, leash in one hand, and his cock own in the other, stroking himself while tonguing Waylon’s hole. “I want you, please.”

Eddie sucked at his hole before pulling back, causing Waylon’s entire body to shiver. “Spread it.” Waylon gave a whine that was met with a stinging swat to his fleshy cheek. “Be a good boy.”

Waylon’s face and chest rested against the bed, pushing his hips higher into the air. He reached both hands behind him and took a cheek in each hand, pulling them apart.

“Perfect,” purred Eddie before his tongue attacked Waylon’s quivering hole again. “So pink and open for me.” Waylon groaned and pushed back against Eddie’s face, earning a snorting laugh. Without warning, Eddie’s tongue was replaced by a single, thick digit pushing past. Waylon’s moans were constant as Eddie kept his hand wide, his entire palm tormenting Waylon with each push in and out of his hole. “You’re twitching. You want me?”

“Yes,” groaned Waylon. “I already said it. I want it, come on Eddie.” There was a short pause when Eddie moved away and Waylon could hear rummaging in familiar drawers. The next sensation was a cool dribble of lubricant dripping down his crack, followed by the satisfying rub of Eddie’s cock sliding between his cheeks. “Please…”

Waylon braced himself for a thrust that never came. Instead, he felt the gentle slide of Eddie’s slick length between the cleft in his cheeks. His thick head nudged Waylon’s opening without pushing inside, and a hand cupped him between his legs. “Fuck,” said Waylon, groaning his complaint as he pushed himself back up onto all fours. “Would you please just…”

The next push forward breached Waylon’s opening, stealing his breath away. He bit back a loud moan as Eddie pushed forward, relentless and slow, not stopping until Waylon’s ass was flush against his groin. “Is that what you wanted?”

“Yes,” Waylon moaned, attempting to bury his head in the comforter to muffle the noise. Their neighbor was known to complain when they were too loud. They had taken precautions to cushion behind the headboard to put an end to the slamming of the bed against the wall, but they could not stop all of the noise from carrying over. “Fuck me,” said Waylon, trying to keep his voice down.

“That vulgar language. You’re provoking me on purpose, aren’t you?” Eddie punctuated the sentence with a hard jolt that rocked Waylon’s entire body.

“Yes, because you’re being cruel,” said Waylon, through deep breaths.

“Cruel?” asked Eddie, one hand pulling back gently on the leash until Waylon was forced to lean his head back. “I’m never cruel to you, darling.”

“Then why won’t you fuck me like I’m asking you to,” said Waylon, finding it difficult to speak loudly with the collar pressing firmly against his windpipe. The hand not gripping the leash held tight to Waylon’s hip.

“I always give you what you want…” said Eddie. The first assault was brutal in the way he withdrew and forced himself back in as deep as possible. The slow pace and forceful thrusts had Waylon gasping for breath and moaning with each slap of their skin meeting. When Waylon dropped his head and stared down his body he could watch the tensing of Eddie’s muscular thighs as he pushed in and out. He also saw himself, dripping on the comforter.

“Harder,” said Waylon, and Eddie immediately adjusted to pounding more forcefully into Waylon. Waylon moaned out his appreciation, bracing himself against the onslaught. “Deeper.”

“Demanding slut tonight, aren’t you?” asked Eddie, his voice broken in time with his thrusts. Waylon’s moans raised in pitch as Eddie moved on the bed behind him, adjusting in order to grind deeper, and succeeding in pleasing Waylon again. “You aren’t the one in charge, remember.” The sentence was punctuated with a gentle tug on the leash. Eddie slid his hand from Waylon’s hip, around and beneath until he was stroking Waylon’s cock.

“Like that,” said Waylon through his own strangled moans. Each thrust caused his entire body to rock forward and Eddie’s fingers quickly had him flustered, babbling incoherently, unsure whether he was wanting Eddie to slow down or go faster. The sensations were too strong and Waylon knew his release was near. “Eddie...I’m going to...”

“Did I say you could come yet?” asked Eddie, the pressure on the leash redoubling until Waylon was gasping for air and a loud, broken cry escaped his lips as he decorated their comforter with pearly ropes of come. Waylon groaned as Eddie continued to push into him, milking out every last drop. A new sound joined his own cries of pleasure, and Waylon frowned. He opened an eye and stared back at the source of the noise. Barker was sitting inside the door, his head tilting back as he howled like a wolf, mimicking Waylon’s cries.

“Shit! Eddie,” said Waylon, trying to pull forward away from Eddie.

“What? What’s wrong?” asked Eddie, his strong, commanding demeanor immediately replaced by concern in response to the stress in Waylon’s voice. “Waylon?”

“Barker!” said Waylon.

“What?” asked Eddie.

“Barker!” Waylon hissed, pulling away as he jerked his chin toward the bedroom door. “He’s _watching_. He can _see_ us…”

“Uh…are you fucking kidding me?” asked Eddie.

“Let me get him out of here…” said Waylon.

“Um, I am inside of you…”

“Come on, Eddie, this is traumatizing for his innocent, young puppy brain…”

“He’s a dog,” said Eddie, growling irritably. “They call it doggy-style for a reason. It’s nothing he can’t see…” Despite his complaints, Eddie allowed Waylon to pull away. Waylon quickly went to the puppy, removing the collar and leash as he walked.

“Barky Barker! You need to sleep in your own crate. That’s your room! This is where the daddies sleep.”

“Daddies? Really?” asked Eddie, his tone unamused.

Waylon continued to walk, nuzzling his sweaty face against the puppy who lavished it with kisses and puppy nips. Waylon put Barker into his crate and made sure there was food, water, and the cushion was clean. He then locked the crate and smiled down at the puppy. “Good night, Barker-baby. And…listen…” Waylon let out a long breath as he stared down at the crate and pushed sweaty red hair behind his ears. “What you saw in there…well, it’s natural, and when two daddies are in love and want to…”

“You are seriously pissing me off now…” came Eddie’s voice from back in the bedroom.

“Okay, never mind, we can go over that when you’re older…” said Waylon, quickly rushing back into the bedroom. Waylon’s pale, freckled body was still flushed and sweaty when he walked back inside. Eddie immediately glared at him when he entered, though his eyes made sure to scan up and down his form, taking in every detail of Waylon’s nudity. “Sorry, Eddie.”

“Not even one day in and that dog is already ruining my life…” said Eddie. He sat on the bed, still naked--his erection still standing up, and glistening from the lubricant.

“So dramatic,” said Waylon, licking his lips as he crawled onto the bed. He did not stop until he was straddling Eddie’s lap. He put a hand on either side of Eddie’s face as he kissed him. “He’s not ruining your life.”

“Easy for you to say,” grumbled Eddie, though he was cut off by a sharp inhale as Waylon took him in hand. Eddie sat back, leaning against the headboard and watching, as Waylon lifted his hips and adjusted until Eddie was lined up with his slick hole. Waylon closed his eyes and relaxed as his ass slowly slid down Eddie’s length. He gasped softly against Eddie’s lips when they were finally united again.

“You’re going to love having him here, I promise,” said Waylon, kissing Eddie’s lips before he began to lift his hips up and down on Eddie’s lap. Waylon had perfected his methods—he knew how to move to please Eddie best. His thighs tensed and hips rolled as he worked, drawing out a long string of grunting moans from Eddie beneath him. Waylon slid his hands slightly behind him, gripping Eddie’s thighs for support, and began a faster, bucking motion.

Eddie stared down at Waylon’s body as he worked, mouth open and eyes dilated. “You look so good riding me,” Eddie purred as he gripped Waylon’s cheeks in his hand. He pulled them wide and assisted by pushing Waylon up and down. “You’re an insatiable little slut, aren’t you?”

“I can’t ever get enough of you,” said Waylon, leaning in to kiss Eddie again. Their lips and tongues were less patient, more desperate. “I love you.” It was a common phrase between them, but it still caused an immediate reaction. Eddie’s arms encircled Waylon, holding him in a tight embrace, even as he thrust upward and held him. Waylon sighed happily at the feeling of Eddie’s member twitching deep inside of him, filling him to overflowing.

Neither moved immediately, taking the time to press their foreheads together and regulate their breathing. Eddie uttered a tired chuckle when Waylon nuzzled against his ear, nipping playfully at his lobe. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Forever,” said Waylon, giving a tired smile as he reached down and took Eddie’s hand in his. He idly turned around the plain, cheap gold band on Eddie’s ring finger. It matched his own, perfectly.

“Are you upset that your mother is getting a wedding and we never had one?” asked Eddie, his voice quiet in the warm darkness of their shared bedroom.

“No,” said Waylon, exhaling a short laugh. “I married you because I knew I wanted to be with you. The ceremony was unimportant….and besides, we were broke…”

“And it was the only way to get the grant to live together by being married students,” said Eddie, chuckling softly.

“I didn’t do it for the grant, you know that,” said Waylon, tilting his head to kiss Eddie’s nose. “Are _you_ jealous of my mother, and Miles, and everyone else getting a wedding?”

“Fuck no,” said Eddie, and his enthusiasm made Waylon laugh out loud. “My life got so much better when I became your husband. I wouldn’t change that day for the world.”

“Best birthday present ever,” Waylon added, grinning.

The pair finally settled into bed after minimal cleaning to ensure they weren’t ruining the sheets. Waylon felt sore and tired. He gave a happy sigh when Eddie pulled their still flushed bodies together. In the other room, a sad howl was audible through the bedroom door.

“Barker’s so sad,” said Waylon quietly. He could feel Eddie against him shaking his head.

“We’re not letting him in the bed—he’s not toilet trained,” said Eddie.

“I know. It’s alright. I’m just…” Waylon sighed.

“You’re sad?” asked Eddie. Waylon shrugged slightly, not responding. “Is it because I brought up weddings? Do you want to go to the wedding?”

“Oh, no…” said Waylon. “I’m not going to that wedding.” Eddie huffed behind him.

“Darling,” said Eddie, pulling Waylon tighter against him, “if you want to go, I am there for you-- we can go. There’s no harm in going. We don’t have to buy her a gift, we can just eat some free food, drink some free drinks, and dress up for a fun dance.”

“No, we can’t go dance at the wedding for the same reason we didn’t make it to our prom…”

“Claire’s having another baby?” asked Eddie.

“No,” said Waylon chuckling. “It’s Edith’s birthday party that same weekend. I’d much rather be there for Claire and Edith than my…mother.”

“I didn’t even ask when it was,” said Eddie, “but you’re right. I wouldn’t miss little Eddie Junior’s birthday for the world.”

“You have to stop doing that,” laughed Waylon. “Claire’s aunt didn’t even know you existed. They named her Edith…”

“I’m still calling her Eddie.”

Another heartrending howl from the other room disrupted the light tone of the conversation and Waylon sighed again, heavier than before.

“Don’t be sad,” said Eddie, reaching out and brushing a lock of red hair behind Waylon’s ear.

“I’m not sad.”

“You’re frowning. Worried about your mother, and then here we are talking about her even in bed…”

“No,” said Waylon, turning over onto his opposite side so he could meet Eddie’s tired blue eyes. “I don’t think about her much at all, outside of therapy. I’m happier now than I ever was with her. I love you. I’m glad you’re going to be starting design school once we get back. Working at the local theater is fine and good, but you have a real talent for creating costume designs and sewing. You’ll be a success—plus you’ll get to work with Claire, again. And I already have that job lined up. Things are going to be great. “

“I hope you at least like the job. I’ve never heard of Murkoff…but the pay seems phenomenal,” said Eddie.

Barker gave another series of high pitched howls that tugged at Waylon’s heartstrings.

Waylon sighed. “I wasn’t sad about the invitation. I was sad that Barker’s out there crying. Can’t we please let him sleep in our bed? Just for one night?”

Eddie gave a long, aggravated growl. Waylon held his gaze, biting his lower lip in a silent supplication. “Fine.”

Waylon clapped happily and kissed Eddie’s lips before jumping out of the bed. In a matter of seconds, he returned, cradling the baby puppy in his arms. He dumped Barker onto the bed before crawling under the covers. Barker was already busy putting puppy kisses all over Eddie’s scowling face.

“Oh, don’t make that face,” said Waylon, laughing as he pulled the puppy away from Eddie. “Won’t it be nice having him to snuggle with at night, and his smiling puppy face to wake up to in the morning?”

“You are the one I want to hold at night, and see in the morning,” said Eddie, sliding an arm around Waylon as he lay on his side, petting the puppy. “Only you.” Eddie kissed lightly at Waylon’s cheek. “Though…I guess I don’t mind if the puppy is there, too.”

“I really like this life we built for ourselves,” said Waylon, his hand slowly stilling where he was petting the curled up puppy. “I never could have seen us building something so great from all those shattered pieces in high school.”

“Sometimes you have to break something to rebuild it, and make it stronger…I’m glad we’re both stronger now. And together.”

“No matter what else happens, we’ll stay that way…” said Waylon before giving a happy sigh and surrendering to sleep. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In August 2015, I was publishing On The Surface, and already wanting to write something else about Eddie and Waylon. I was inspired very much by "A Little Less Sixteen Candles" by Billywick and hisboywriter, as well as "Dirty Little Secrets" by Outlast25 to think up a high school AU, but nothing really made me want to write about them as high schoolers - until I read "Koi no Mannaka" by MATSUMOTO Miecohouse. The story was so moving, and not at all your typical high school love story. The abusive relationship combined with the scene where Matsubara dresses Tsukasa up like a girl really sealed it in my mind. So I wrote my take on KnM with Eddie and Waylon replacing the two leads. The rest is history.
> 
> **SPECIAL THANKS** :  
> I would never have published this without the support of **st-gulik** and **moxymike** , my two beta readers who helped me through a lot of self doubt. And my friend, **Artistra** , who put the idea of a ginger Waylon in my head and it refused to leave. She also helped me come up with a title, and was always there for me to vent to when I was writing it. It meant the world to me.
> 
> And of course, the BIGGEST THANKS goes to the people who read it, and talked to me about it, and made me really super fucking excited to be posting this smut fest on the internet. **THELOVEARESICK** : You are an amazing author in your own right, and the fact that you read my stories and love them and comment and talk to me about them (as well as basically all things outlast lol)-- I seriously can't even say enough how wonderful it is having you as a friend, so thank you.
> 
> **Morbida** , I turned you to the high school au dark side, and I'm not even sorry. Thanks for all your support, your comments always make me smile.
> 
> **akka-chan** , the ART THAT YOU DID! You are so amazing. I am forever grateful for all of your comments and support, and everyone should check out your artwork because you are as talented as you are wonderful and I loved your doodles of Waylon and Eddie in their uniforms so much. Someone even came to read after seeing your art work so damn, THANKS!! [Check out this Broken Things FanArt if you haven't! It rules!](http://akkame-chan.tumblr.com/post/141616669753/i-just-wanted-to-post-some-fanarts-inspired)
> 
> **Pika**!! I consider you one of the absolute best artists in the Outlast fandom (and possibly the world) so when you were commenting and supporting my fic it really meant a lot to me to know that someone so talented was actually enjoying something I wrote. Seriously, year made, thank you. [If you haven't seen Pika's art, you are missing out](http://pikadoodle.tumblr.com/)
> 
> **HIMEKO7**!! You are the reason this is even on Wattpad, I loved all of your comments over there and here, thank you so much. **XYZXX** , I know you're not as into fanfic anymore but damn, you are awesome, thanks for all your comments and support and letting me vent about Outlast related crap. **Cadillacslim3** I said it on FFN but I am saying it here too, THANK YOU for reviewing my story when no one else is ever reading it on FFN. I am really happy I was able to pull in even just one reader as kind and dedicated as you, thanks for all of your support.
> 
> **EVERYONE ELSE WHO COMMENTED** : Thank you so much, leave a note if you liked my story, it’ll make my day, and probably convince me to keep writing Eddie x Waylon garbage. I put some behind the scenes fun facts about writing this story, as well as my plans for the near fic-writing future, on my tumblr so feel free to check it out!!


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